Remember
by Punky Ninja
Summary: Six months after the events in Silent Hill 2, James Sunderland wakes from a coma with no recollection of his journeys in the quaint town.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** T. Just to be safe, you know.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

* * *

The loud, grating sound of a metallic object colliding with a tile floor sent miniscule tremors through Brookhaven Hospital. The arrival of the Great One was noticed instantaneously and stray demons fell into the darkness, using whatever shadows they could find to conceal themselves from the approaching entity. From their haven, the lifeless cretins peered at the Great One, shivers tingling under their rotted flesh from the simple sight of the being. They studied said being and gawked at him; at everything about him. The gigantic red pyramid-shaped helmet, the bloodied butcher's apron, and the oversized knife held within the Great One's latex-gloved hand filled the small demons with a strong sense of terror, the kind of terror one feels when staring into the eyes of Death itself.

Deeper still, the demons shrank back into the shadows, fear rising in their bellies as the Great One passed. The firm tap of black boots, followed by the screaming of the Great Knife being dragged, lasted for only a few seconds before all was silent once more. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours and the demons continued to hide in their stygian sanctuaries. Though the Great One was long gone, far away within the depths of the hospital, not a dead soul dared to move…

-

Pyramid Head scowled in the privacy of his helmet. His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white, and he desperately wanted to swing his malevolent weapon at something, preferably a living object that could scream from the pain and writhe in its agony. But, alas, he could not. Not at the moment. He had urgent business to attend to that involved a certain, foolish man who had implanted a sense of fury within the large demon.

The demon remembered clearly the day when the unfortunate human arrived in his domain: Silent Hill. At first, the fragile man wandered the streets, as if without a purpose. The man, James Sunderland, had a purpose, however. His dead wife, Mary, called to him, haunted his dreams, and beckoned the man to Silent Hill and James, blinded by the lies he told himself, foolishly obliged with Mary's wishes. He couldn't live without his precious wife. He couldn't live with himself.

Pyramid Head easily sensed James' intentions of finding Mary and would have nothing of it. In fact, it was Pyramid Head's duty to eliminate the lies; to eliminate Mary. The truth had to be revealed to James no matter what the cost. To live in an illusion is to not live at all, and the ruler of demons quickly destroyed all the lies plaguing James, wanting the man to wake up from his "death", review his sins, and receive the punishment accordingly. However, luck was not on Pyramid Head's side and a new threat made itself known. Maria, the last memory of Mary manifested, tempted James further into illusions and was a persistent annoyance. Pyramid Head had to repeatedly murder the wench, but promptly learned that she couldn't be rid of so easily. Neither gun nor sword, neither pipe nor spear, could permanently kill Mary's familiar. Even the pyramid-wielder's brute strength barely inflicted a death upon Maria that lasted more than two hours. But Pyramid Head knew the true weapon that could erase Mary and Maria once and for all, and that weapon happened to be James.

With tricks of his own, Pyramid Head shoved the truth, the truth of Mary's death, in James' face and forced the man out of the lies. Just when Pyramid Head thought he had succeeded, James slipped out of his grasp and relapsed, running back to his long-dead wife. The illusion took full control over the man and drove him to the point of insanity; he attempted suicide, driving his car into the depths of Toluca Lake.

Six months had passed since that fateful day. In the realm of Silent Hill, however, time did not exist the way it had for humans in the outside world; what may have been years to a man would have hardly passed as an hour to a demon. Pyramid Head was especially grateful for this dimensional lapse. He would have surely gone on a ruthless killing spree had he waited the full six months. The demon's anger was still fresh from James' suicidal attempt and he couldn't wait to get his hands on the foolish man. James had run from the truth for far too long and it was time for him to come back home.

Pyramid Head's Great Knife screeched in anguish as its master turned into a dark corridor. The lights above the demon had burned out ages ago and blood, dried and wet, splattered the walls crimson. An old rotted and peeling sign hung from the hospital ceiling, stating that the large demon was heading towards the male patients' dorms.

Pyramid Head knew he was headed in the right direction; a cackling noise familiar to his ears grew louder with every step down the dim hallway. As soon as the demon approached a door marked with the number "205", the insane laughing came to an abrupt halt. Pyramid Head grunted softly, knowing what lay in wait beyond said door and gripped the brass knob taut in his palm. With a quick flick of his wrist he wrenched the door open, almost ripping it off its hinges, and slammed it against the wall. The hospital shook from the impact and the demon hastily entered the room.

Inside rested a dirty gurney, covered in grime and home to many large insects, and a few empty and disheveled medicine cabinets lined the walls. Against the northern wall stood a figure and Pyramid Head instantly recognized it. The being had a slim, flexible build and it wore a heavily stitched robe. Intricately detailed tattoos marked the demon's shoulders and its face was masked by an overlaying piece of flesh. Occasionally, said demon would twitch and tick uncontrollably, as if resisting a painful temptation.

"VALTIEL," barked Pyramid Head, acknowledging the other with a firm, dominating voice.

Valtiel chuckled softly and bowed his head sarcastically. "Great One," he replied, a hint of disgust showing through the demon's words. His left shoulder clenched and flexed briefly before he spoke again. "You've sensed it, too?"

Pyramid Head grumbled something unintelligible as he carelessly tossed his sword aside, resulting in a thunderous crash. With swift steps, the larger demon quickly made his way to Valtiel's side. His pyramid-shaped helmet faced away from the other as a sign of obvious distaste. Pyramid Head despised the smaller demon with a passion and if he could have his way, Valtiel would be drawn and quartered and hung up on a meat hook in some butcher's freezer; fodder for whatever scavengers decided to feast on him. But Pyramid Head needed the faceless being; his plan would be considered useless without the cackling menace.

"HE'S AWAKE," stated the Great One blandly.

Valtiel nodded in affirmation. He reached an arm above his head casually, his fingers playing with the rusted metal of a wheel-shaped valve that protruded from the wall, the tool that could change the very meaning of "Silent Hill". "So, I'm guessing that you're wanting to pay your little pet a visit?"

Fingers cracked in agitation at Valtiel's laid-back tone, but Pyramid Head kept his calm. "OF COURSE," he growled. "HE WON'T COME WILLINGLY. THIS IS THE ONLY WAY."

"That's true." Valtiel nodded once more before wrapping both of his hands around the valve. With extreme care, the valve began to turn, groaning in protest all the while. It turned in a complete 360 degree motion and it did so another time before it was released. Valtiel stepped away from the valve and wall, marveling at his newest creation, a dimensional tear that could immediately transport a being to another world. The dimensional tear, a dark, stygian whirlpool that clung to the wall, shimmered maliciously in the shadowy room.

Pyramid Head remained still, unimpressed by Valtiel's attempt at a brilliant portal. A low rumbling sound emanated from the beast's throat and his fists clenched, the latex gloves tearing slightly. His patience was running out. "ENOUGH OF THESE GAMES," bellowed the pyramid-wielding demon. He slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a permanent dent for all to see as a result of his impatience.

A soft sigh was heard somewhere behind Valtiel's mask, possibly a sigh of disappointment, and the smaller demon turned back to his wheel-shaped valve. He grumbled something slightly inaudible, probably a minor curse, and continued to make the portal to Pyramid Head's liking. With his right hand, he twisted the valve a few inches clockwise. The dimensional tear responded by darkening in color and it discarded its elaborate sheen. Valtiel's shoulders drooped, his neck erupting into a slight spasm lasting only a moment, and his hand fell from the wheel. He turned his head back to Pyramid Head and nodded, giving the Great One a silent "okay" to pass through.

With a freakish amount of grace and agility, Pyramid Head eagerly made his way towards the portal. He kicked off with his back foot and vanished into the depths of the tear, the darkness enveloping and devouring him whole.

Valtiel waited in silence for a minute or so once the oversized red pyramid disappeared into the separate world the portal offered. His face stretched and ripped, revealing a wicked smile as his playful nature birthed a twisted idea. With just as much grace and speed (perhaps more) as the Great One, Valtiel leapt into the portal, cackling all the while…

-

"Dr… --kins… Dr. Wilkins."

"Yeah?"

"Here are the results from Mr. Sunderland's CAT scans. It seems he's improving."

"Ah. Very interesting. Here, hook him up to IV #028. That should speed up his recovery process."

-beep beep-

"… Doctor… Did he just…?"

"It was just a miniscule fluctuation of his heart, that's all."

"No… Dr. Wilkins, look at Mr. Sunderland. He's _moving_. He's waking up!"

"… Wha--?"

James stared into the pitch black darkness behind his eyelids, enjoying the tranquility and privacy it offered. His fingers cracked and clenched unwittingly and James groaned, the stiffness of his body giving him great pain. He could hear two voices bickering back and forth, but he paid no attention to them. Instead, he concentrated on the voices coming from inside of him.

'_Where am I?'_

'_It's so dark…'_

'_Am I dead?'_

'_No…'_

'_I'm alive.'_

'_But really, where am I?'_

'Who_ am I?'_

"Mr. Sunderland…" He heard a female's soft voice far off in the distance.

'_That's right. I'm James. James Sunderland.'_

"Wake up. _Now_." A man's voice. Demanding and firm.

'_Wake up…?' _James frowned inwardly. _'Aren't I awake already?'_

"Christ…" The man sighed in agitation. "Don't make me slap you awake, you little--"

"_Doctor!_" The girl sounded appalled.

"Well, what do you propose we do, huh? What do _you_ have in mind that could wake him up, Mary?"

Mary. _Mary._ That name sounded familiar, too familiar to the unconscious James.

A burst of white light blinded James suddenly, stealing away all the shadowy sleep that held the man captive. Every nerve and muscle in his body twitched back to life and sprang into action, catching up on months' worth of work. With a slight buzzing sensation, conscious thoughts sprang forth and forced the dusty cogs of James' mind back into motion. As the darkness began to melt away, James felt his eyes open up to the world around him, tossing him back into reality.

"Nnh…," James moaned as blurry images and colors flooded his vision and the light burned his dilated pupils, not used to such brightness. The muscles in his arm contracted as his hand automatically reached up to shield his blue eyes from the light. "Unh…" He allowed a few seconds to pass before he lowered his hand back to his side. His eyes took a moment or so to focus on his surroundings. The man could faintly make out two figures hovering over him and they slowly became crisp and clear in appearance.

On James' left was an older man with a grumpy, sour visage and his lips had contorted themselves into a frown. He had long brown hair that barely brushed against the shoulders of his white doctor's jacket and his eyes, blue in color (which James found peculiar), stared intently at James. Next to the doctor was a small woman, possibly just out of college. She had a slim figure, covered by a pink nurse outfit, and her face was pretty and easy on the eyes. Chestnut, brown hair curled around her jaw line and her brown eyes twinkled and sparkled in the light. Her rosy lips were twisted into a frown as well, though not as prominent as the doctor's. She was the first to speak.

"Are you awake, Mr. Sunderland?"

James scrunched up his face, his lips pursing slightly, as he took a second or two to comprehend her words. Slowly, he nodded his head. "I… I think so." The words came out hoarse and weak due to the dryness of his aching throat. While inadvertently rubbing the palm of his hand against his neck, hoping to dull the pain of simply breathing and swallowing, his eyes began to wander. "Where am I?" he asked, noticing how his surroundings weren't the least bit familiar.

The doctor ("Dr. Wilkins", his nametag read) leaned his elbow on the bed James lay upon. "You're in a hospital," he stated matter-of-factly.

Running his fingers through his blonde hair, which was in dire need of a wash, James frowned. The doctor's words proved true as he began to analyze the room further. He was surrounded on four sides by walls of pure white. On said walls rested a few pictures and medical charts which the average person would find complex and useless. Straight across from the hospital bed in which James rested were a few black leather chairs, possibly where guests or relatives would sit and chit-chat with the patient. By the looks of it, James hadn't had any visitors for a long time; the chairs were coated by a small layer of dust. Turning his attention back to the doctor and young nurse, James felt another question burn at the back of his mind. "What… What happened?" he muttered, unable to recall anything of significance about why he had been admitted into a hospital.

Both doctor and nurse scratched at their chins and fiddled their thumbs, glancing at each other to see who would go first. The nurse seemed to have the upper hand in this little battle, considering how Dr. Wilkins grumbled something unintelligible and folded his arms across his chest in aggravation. The doctor turned his gaze towards James and granted him his answer. "You've been in a coma for six months."

James could almost feel his jaw drop and his eyes widened in shock. "S-six months?! You're kidding me!" he yelled, springing into a seated position and staring in awe at the doctor.

Dr. Wilkins raised his palm to silence James. "We don't know all the details," he stated honestly, "but I'll tell you what we at the hospital _do_ know.

"Around six months ago, the hospital got an emergency call. Someone had called, saying that they had seen a blonde-haired man floating, face down and unconscious, near the shore of Toluca Lake. The caller also continued to say that they had dragged the man back onto dry land and had properly administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. We proceeded to send an ambulance to retrieve the man and he was brought here, to the one and only medicinal establishment in this quaint little town of Silent Hill, Brookhaven Hospital."

James flinched inwardly at the two words: Silent Hill. He had heard them somewhere else before, but he was unsure where. Shrugging off the nagging sensation within him, James continued to listen to Dr. Wilkins' story.

"We tried our best to bring this man back to consciousness, but he resisted. Days turned to weeks and weeks into months, and still we waited, hoping that he would one day wake up." The doctor grinned slightly. "And now, six months later, the man has finally come back to reality. That's pretty much what happened. There are still many things we don't know, such as how you, Mr. Sunderland, ended up in the lake in the first place."

When the doctor gave James an inquisitive stare, the blonde man could only respond with a shrug. "I don't remember…" James sat in silence for a few seconds, turning over some thoughts in his mind. "Nope… nothing," he confirmed when the thoughts promised no results.

The doctor and nurse both frowned at this and James saw Dr. Wilkins pull a clipboard from his white jacket and scribble a few words down on it. "Can you remember anything that happened before today?" he asked, the doctor's blue eyes shimmering curiously.

James raised a brow and delved back into his thoughts once more. "Not really. I still remember things like where I live and who my parents are and stuff like that, but I don't know how or why I'm in this town."

Dr. Wilkins tapped the capped end of his ballpoint pen against his chin pensively. "What is your last memory before things begin to go blank?"

"Erm…" James fidgeted with his hands as he attempted to recall the event. "I was suffering from a vicious migraine and I had decided to go to bed. When I was under the covers, I pulled out something… a picture, that's right… from underneath my pillow. I remember looking at it and this horrible, sad, depressing feeling overcame me. Then that's where my memory stops."

The nurse's visage displayed a clear sense of curiosity as she piped up suddenly. "What was the picture of?" she asked innocently.

Dr. Wilkins scoffed at the nurse's words. "I believe what was in the picture is completely irrelevant, Mary."

James froze. A cold sweat took hold of his whole body, goosebumps spreading across his skin and his spine twitching and shivering. His blue eyes widened as far as they could. Shock and realization had struck the blonde a painful blow. Now he knew why the nurse's name, Mary, was so familiar.

The doctor and nurse both watched in horror as James broke down into tears, soft sobs escaping from his throat. "Th-the picture…," he began, a hiccup hindering his speech for a split second. "It… it was a picture of my dead wife… Mary." Memories of Mary flooded his thoughts at that instant and he failed at suppressing a moan of despair. Her sweet smile, their wedding, the day when he found out that his beloved had obtained an incurable disease, the many days he spent at her bedside, her death… The memories wrenched and tore at James' fragile heart and the man thought he'd die at any moment from the guilt and loneliness afflicting him.

Dr. Wilkins sprang into action, gripping both of James' shoulders in each palm, and he shook the blonde. "Get a hold of yourself!" the doctor demanded, fearing that James would 'lose it' and perhaps even fall back into the coma.

As the last vision of Mary faded away into the recesses of his mind, James' cries softened and he eventually quieted down. He reached up to brush off the doctor's hands from him and he sighed. "… I'm sorry," James whispered, wiping away the burning tears with the back of his hand. "I lost myself there for a moment."

"It's understandable…," said the nurse sympathetically.

James smiled weakly at the nurse's – no, Ms. Mary's – kind attempt at empathy, but he knew in his heart that his pain wasn't the _least_ bit understandable. He sniffled slightly, and gripped the thin sheets of his hospital bed. His eyes still stung from the tears he had shed from his recent mourning, and he probably wished that he hadn't remembered his dead wife at all.

He turned his blue eyes, brighter than normal and slightly bloodshot, toward Dr. Wilkins. He saw the doctor jot down a few more notes on his clipboard, pause to nibble at the butt end of his pen, and then scribble a few more lines before the clipboard was set on a nearby table. The doctor's fingers meshed together and he rested his hands in his lap, his lips melting into thin lines as he did some last-minute ponderings. "James," he said suddenly, catching the blonde's full attention. "God, I hate having to do this, but it looks like you need one…"

James furrowed his brow. "Need what?" he asked, wanting yet _not_ wanting to hear the doctor's reply.

Dr. Wilkins smirked sheepishly and scratched at his long brown hair. "Er, a psychiatrist. With the problems you have, you'll need one."

"W-what?!" James was baffled and outraged by the doctor's sudden prescription. "What _problems_?" He hissed out the last word with a strong sense of hate.

Raising his hand, palm up just as he had done before, he silenced James. He gave the blonde man a stern glare, a glare saying wordlessly, _If you interrupt me one more time, I'm going to rip your tongue out and shove it right up where the sun don't shine._ James decided it best to comply and he immediately closed his mouth before he could add another hasty protest. The doctor cleared his throat before continuing.

"I'm prescribing you a psychiatrist because you have some problems, though minor, that I'd like for you to get checked out and situated." Dr. Wilkins pulled the clipboard back into his grasp and he looked it over briskly. "With what you've told us, it's safe to assume that you have a small case of amnesia. However, no matter how minute it may be, an illness is an illness and we'll need to try our best to cure it. Also, it looks as though your wife's death has traumatized you a bit and it would be unhealthy to let you remain in such a…" The doctor stopped, thinking of the right word. "…dreadful state. Along with this trauma, it's possible for you to attain neurosis and your mind'll become even more screwed up than it already is."

James scrunched up his face in agitation, obviously disagreeing with the doctor's judgment, but what good would it do for James to argue? Dr. Wilkins was a stubborn individual and James thought that it would only be a waste of his breath to persuade the doctor out of the whole "psychiatrist" idea. Biting at his lower lip to keep himself silent, the blonde man nodded his head, the motion stiff and contradictory to his beliefs.

Dr. Wilkins smiled, half of his mouth contracting into a small grin, and he rested a large hand upon James' shoulder. "I'm glad you understand," he said, and James almost swore that the doctor had just brow-beaten him. The doctor let out a loud exhale and bent backwards a few degrees, resulting in a few cracks of his spine. He quickly returned his body back into good posture and nodded at the nurse, affirming that their business with James was done. At least for today.

Turning back to James, the doctor decided to fill the blonde man in on some details of his new agenda. "All right," Dr. Wilkins began, crossing his arms and watching James with a serious eye. "There are a few little rules that you should be aware of – that you should follow. First of all…" The doctor looked behind him, motioning towards a door in the back of the room. "The restroom's right over there. Don't be a retard and not use it. Bathrooms are there for a reason, so if you have to go…_go_."

James frowned, unable to laugh at the doctor's dark sense of humor. The doctor must have had some bad experiences with patients lacking the necessary potty-trained abilities.

"Second, you will _not_ sleep tonight. I repeat, you _will not_ sleep. After waking from a coma, patients are required to stay awake for twenty-four hours straight so as not to risk a second coma, or perhaps further brain damage." Dr. Wilkins looked down at his watch, tilting the plastic screen of it at an angle so the hands could be read. "You are to stay completely awake from 11:31 PM, the exact time as of now, to 11:31 PM tomorrow." The doctor noticed the shocked expression on James' face and chuckled. "Don't worry, we have methods for keeping patients awake. We've got you covered," he assured the worried blonde. "Mary!" barked the doctor, requiring the nurse's assistance.

"Y-yes, sir?" Mary replied, having just been woken up from what looked like a pleasant daydream.

"Let's get Mr. Sunderland some coffee, the good stuff, and I'll get his television set up…" The brown-haired doctor became flustered as his eyes twitched and wobbled in their sockets, desperately searching for something. A curse flew from the doctor's lips as he ran to the far end of the room and looked above and below some small cabinets. "Jesus! Where the heck did that remote go?!" he yelled, demanding an answer.

_Oh boy_, thought James as he watched the doctor scurry about the room, a panic attack ready to take the medic hostage if the remote wasn't found. _This is going to be a _long_ twenty-four hours…_

"Ah ha!" The victorious cry took both Mary and James by surprise when the doctor's search proved successful. Now waltzing back to his patient and assistant, remote at hand, Dr. Wilkins grinned widely. "Here you go," he said, passing the small electronic device from his thick, aged hand to James' much smaller and softer one. James held the controller in his palm, studying the many different buttons and numbers before selecting a large, red button in the upper right-hand corner to press down upon. The television standing on a nightstand directly to his left reacted instantly, the black screen exploding into a burst of white and black static. James winced as the loud, buzzing noise from the TV scraped against his eardrums in an unpleasant manner and the blonde pushed down on another button, this time numbered. There was no change whatsoever; the television continued to static and screech disturbingly.

Curse after curse could be heard from Dr. Wilkins as the furious doctor lunged at the television. "Oh no you don't…," he growled, fidgeting with some of the buttons and knobs directly on the box. When his effort at getting a decent reception failed, he began to shake and pound at the television with his fists.

"Doctor! _Doctor_!" hissed Mary, quickly making her way to her superior's side. Her fragile hands gripped the doctor's wrists and she pulled the raging man away from the confounded piece of technology. "Stop it!"

Dr. Wilkins snarled as he pushed a stray strand of his brown hair out of his face, an angry exhale escaping his lungs. He turned his angry leer away from the television and when it rested upon James, the doctor's gaze softened and his lips formed a sheepish smile. _Sorry, I lost myself for a minute there_, the look seemed to say and James immediately forgave the doctor for his sudden burst of violence.

Mary patted the doctor's bicep softly, comfortingly, and she smiled, relieved that no real damage was caused towards the electronic box. "I'll be sure to get a repairman up here right away," she assured, following through with her statement by rushing out the door and down the hall.

Thankfully, there was a repairman working in a room downstairs of the hospital and he and Mary made their way up to James' room in a matter of minutes. The man, dressed in pale blue coveralls, wandered over to the television and took a few seconds to examine it. The problem was quickly recognized and the repairman set to work, fiddling with wires and buttons. His reparations were swift and accurate and in about a half hour, the television screen was filled with vibrant colors, images, and sounds. With his job done, the repairman tipped his blue hat and exited the room. Mary and Dr. Wilkins followed soon after, but they had to remind James of the rules he was given prior to the television incident. James promised that he'd be sure to remain fully awake and, when asked by the doctor, to use the facilities when he needed to.

Now with the room all to himself, James slid into a comfortable position in his bed; two fluffy pillows cushioned his lower back and he huddled under the warmth of a comforter and sheets. He sighed happily as his body relaxed further. With the remote in his hand, the blonde man began to flip through the many channels cable provided. He skipped past sports events, soap operas, _Spanish_ soap operas, and educational crap before settling on the cartoons. A smile passed across his face as the animated animals began to beat the living crap out of each other, in a non-violent way, with absurd objects. He remembered being a young child, getting up early in the morning just to see his favorite black and white 'toons on the television screen.

After an hour or two of watching waggish scuffles and arguments between comical characters, James felt his focus on the television swaying and his eyelids began to droop. Catching himself, the blonde slapped his cheeks lightly. "That's not good…," he muttered to himself, picking up the remote once more to find a channel that had some sort of action or suspense, anything that could keep him awake.

The cartoon characters on the television screen immediately dispersed into a split second of darkness but were, just as quickly, replaced by an image of a man covered in gore and blood. James chuckled to himself, his fingers curling around the plastic of the remote. A horror film. That was exactly what he needed.

By the looks of it, James could easily tell that he had missed a good thirty minutes of the movie. It was easy to pick up on, however, and James had already figured out the plotline after a few minutes of viewing the film. The movie was one of those older zombie-flicks: crappy graphics, bad make-up, and excessive use of blood. Along with all other films akin to the one James was currently viewing, the main story line involved a sudden rising of the dead and a town (or sometimes multiple towns, perhaps the world) plagued by their existence. There was a young man as the star, with a blonde female for a sidekick, and their mission was to find a way to destroy the zombies. James observed that the many fights between human and zombie were completely and utterly fake; he watched as a man lost his "arm" (which was a crudely-made replica built out of plastic) and a zombie had its "brains" blown out (probably just a glob of jelly). Everything about the horror film was pretty much cruddy, but James didn't mind. At least he was awake, now.

About an hour into the movie, James couldn't hold back his laughter as a woman got sliced in half, fake blood and body parts spilling onto the ground she stood upon. When he was able to break away from the poorly-made film, James turned his head to a nearby nightstand where an alarm clock rested. Squinting his eyes slightly, the blonde man analyzed the bright red digits; 3:47 AM, the clock read. James groaned, turning back to face the television. The night was passing incredibly slowly and he was afraid to figure out how he'd survive the other twenty or so hours. "Ugh," he grumbled, attempting to find some type of stimulation from the horror flick.

"_Johnny! No! Don't do it!" cried a boisterous blonde female. Her golden locks flew around her face dramatically and her scream was too big for her face. She appeared to be yelling at a black-haired man who had already lunged for a nearby zombie._

"_Take that, zombie scum!" the man cried, one hand digging into decayed flesh while the other stabbed a rusted knife into the thing's shoulder multiple times. A thick, green slime oozed from the zombie's wound and the creature moaned hoarsely, slowly falling to the cement below it. With an exaggerated "plop", the undead being collapsed, no longer moving and possibly dead (again). The man quickly spun around on his heels to look behind him and he saw a horde of zombies slowly stagger and wobble towards him, hands outstretched and mouths agape._

"_Johnny!" screeched the girl again, slightly louder, as the camera did an unnecessary close-up of her face (which wasn't the least bit pleasant - covered in gore and all)._

_The black-haired man, Johnny, ignored the woman and focused on the badly made-up zombies approaching him. With his trusted knife at hand, the man zipped past the things and slashed in all directions, bodies, entrails, and green goop falling to the ground. The zombie army was easily defeated and the man stood his ground among the fallen enemies, sensing an even larger, more sinister foe nearby._

_To his amazement (though his face showed no signs of emotion), another zombie appeared from behind a building. This was no ordinary zombie, however; this was one big mother. More than twice the size of its undead minions and twenty times uglier, the creature stepped awkwardly in the direction of Johnny._

_Johnny attempted a shocked face, but being the bad actor he was, his visage remained the same while he screwed up his mouth into an unattractive "O". The camera shook slightly in hopes of creating an effect to mimic the vibrations of a large zombie's footsteps, and it did so poorly. "Gah-rooh!" howled the zombie, its jaw widening to the fullest with spit dribbling down its chin. "Aaaaaarrrrg!" replied Johnny, holding the handle of his knife tightly in his grasp as he rushed the thing. His knife swiftly neared the zombie's rotting flesh just as the creature swung its arm, directing the oversized limb toward the man's head. Both weapons were only a foot away. Inches. Centimeters._

A large burst of static took over the television screen at the instant of the Man vs. Zombie collision. James almost fell out of his bed from the sudden explosion of white and black pixels and the high shrieking sound that followed. "What in God's name --?!" he yelled, covering his ears with his palms to decrease the sound's volume. _Didn't the television just get fixed five hours ago by that one repair-dude?_ thought James as he slowly inched his way over to the damaged electrical box. He winced as he removed his right hand from the side of his head to turn a few knobs and press a few buttons on the box. None of his efforts worked and he released an annoyed groan. "Crap. Where's that repairman when I need him?"

Just when James thought life couldn't get any worse, the hospital lights above him flickered a couple times before blowing out completely. The once bright room was fully enveloped in darkness, the only light available radiating from the white and black specs of static on the television screen. The blonde man felt his heart sink down to his stomach. Sweat droplets began to form beads along his forehead and a couple droplets slid along the bridge of his nose. "Crap," he said, his finger jamming at the power button to the television. "Crap, crap, crap, _crap_," he continued to say when the power button failed to work.

The air around James began to drop in temperature, the cold nipping at his skin and causing his flesh to rise in small goosebumps. As he messed with the television, he could faintly see his breath, escaping from his lips in a grey curl of mist. His fingers, now numb from the invisible icicles pricking at his skin, drew back from the electrical box's buttons to rest on his arms. With both hands on his biceps, he began to rapidly rub his palms against the flesh in an attempt to warm himself. "What the heck?" he whispered, lips tinted a slight blue.

Suddenly, James felt a presence, full of malice and anger, directly behind him. A large knot grew in his throat and his spine shivered fearfully from the ominous sensation. Gulping softly, the blonde man slowly twisted his neck, turning his head towards the presence. James cried out in shock and horror, tripping over his feet as he tried to escape from the being at the far side of the hospital room. The blonde man's body pressed up against the wall supporting his bed, and his hands scrabbled frantically for an escape. His blue eyes, wide with terror, stared at the creature.

Stepping out of the darkest shadows appeared a large demonic being. Heavy black boots, tapping firmly on the floor, were instantly revealed by the light from the television. A white butcher's apron licked at the being's calves and, further up on its body, its muscles could be clearly seen, stretching and flexing as it walked closer to James. Finally, the last of the being stepped into the lit part of the room and James barely suppressed a scream. The giant red pyramid helmet glinted softly in the dim light, possibly hiding a face underneath its impenetrable metal.

"Wh-who are you?!" cried James, his back pressing further into the wall.

The pyramid-wielding creature continued to approach James, its boots padding lightly against the floor. It quickly ate up the distance between itself and the human and in a matter of seconds, only a few inches separated the two. Their chests nearly met, but James was certain that the demon could hear his panicked heartbeat nonetheless. The creature raised a latex-gloved hand and placed it on James' jaw, causing the man's breath to hitch.

"You're… You're going to kill me, aren't you?" asked James fearfully, afraid that the hand would rip his jaw straight off its hinges at any moment. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, waiting for the pain to come. When a few minutes passed and no pain was felt, James risked a peek at the demon.

The being hadn't moved at all, its hand remained on his cheek and James could feel the latex gently caressing his flesh. A soft whimper escaped James' throat and he flinched when the pyramid-creature brought up another hand to rest it upon the blonde's other cheek. With both sides of his face cradled by the demon's touch, James couldn't help but notice the warmth pouring from the thing's palms.

"Who are you?" James asked again, his voice shaky and insecure. "Wha-what do you want?"

The blonde-haired man shrunk back in pain as the demon's nails suddenly dug into his skin. Small trickles of blood dripped along his jaw, and his mouth hung open in shock. The beast's hands began to squeeze James' head softly, only causing a slight amount of pain for the weak human. A groaning sound of grinding metal emanated from the pyramid-demon as a single, terrifying word echoed from under its helmet. "REMEMBER."

Remember? Remember what? James frowned, staring at the demon that had full control over whether he would live or die at any instant. This was the first time he had ever seen the creature; how the heck was he supposed to remember something that never even happened?

James guessed that the being had sensed his uncertainty and he felt the thick, hot hands against his flesh loosen their hold and slowly drop down to rest by his neck and collar bone. A tingling sensation caused James' body to shiver as the demon's fingertips slowly traced the bones and veins that lay underneath his skin. Fingers, covered by the thin latex, curled around James' neck and the demon's thumbs pressed into the crevice just above his collar; thick hands began to constrict with incredible strength.

With his air supply cut completely off from the demon's death grip, James' hands reached up to grab and scratch at the pyramid-wielder's arms to no avail. Gasping and sputtering noises erupted from his throat and his eyes rolled up into his head. "St…stop…," he begged, trying to tear the thing from his neck. The demon paid no heed to James' futile struggling and continued to choke the man.

The world began to swirl and fade around James and he felt lightheaded and incredibly dizzy. His flailing arms stopped their pitiful attempts and fell to his side, limp. James took one last look at the demon strangling him, at the crimson pyramid helmet, before his head lolled and hung loosely against his chest.

"REMEMBER…," he heard the demon say, the last thing he heard before the darkness overcame him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This is the FULL chapter. Finally, right? Hope you enjoy.

**Rating:** T. Just to be safe.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

* * *

Pyramid Head's hands released their hold on the unconscious man's neck and instead gripped his shoulders, keeping James from collapsing to the tiled floor below. The demon marveled at how weak and innocent the man was in his helpless and vulnerable state, thinking of how easy it would have been to kill him at that instant. Though tempting, the demon knew how to control the many animalistic urges that plagued him frequently and he suppressed the anger and hatred that screamed for the blonde-haired man's blood. He was still mad that James had chosen Mary over Pyramid Head – the lies over the truth – and the suicide the man attempted didn't make anything the least bit better.

The pyramid-wielder grunted softly as he lifted James effortlessly, as though he were a simple doll. The demon carried the man a short distance to the hospital bed where he was gently set down on the many covers and blankets adorning it. Fingers lingered over the man's skin for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of the flowing blood underneath human flesh. Slowly, they trailed up his shoulders to rest on his blonde head. Latex met golden strands of hair and the fingers tenderly stroked said strands, pushing any stray hairs back into place.

Suddenly, shivers ran up and down Pyramid Head's spine and the beast let loose a low growl. An unwanted presence in the room caught his attention almost immediately. "VALTIEL, WHY HAVE YOU FOLLOWED ME?"

From the same shadows that Pyramid Head appeared from, a faint form could be made out. The black mass, darker than pitch, hung from the ceiling and slowly crawled towards the Great One. "Kekeke," the form cackled, dropping to the ground with barely a sound. Taking a couple seconds to endure a few muscle spasms, the shadowy figure stepped forward into the light, revealing all that Pyramid Head had assumed.

Valtiel's featureless face, illuminated by the static from the television screen, stretched into a wide grin as he approached Pyramid Head. The demon's slender form froze in its tracks about ten feet away from the pyramid-wielding demon; a good distance was kept. "_Great One_," Valtiel began, his smile spreading ear-to-ear. "I couldn't just sit back and watch you leave like that..."

Pyramid Head turned towards the demon swiftly, his fists balled from anger and ready to impale something. "I GAVE YOU SPECIFIC ORDERS TO STAY IN THE OTHER WORLD," he growled.

"You wanted me to stay back in that hellhole and spend who knows how long waiting for your return while you come out here to have fun with your little slave?" The faceless demon motioned towards the sleeping James. "Now what fun would that be?" he asked, palms faced upward and questioningly.

Fury bubbled in Pyramid Head's chest and he felt the strong urge to wrap his hands around Valtiel's neck and wrench it in half. He restrained himself, however. "YOU DISOBEYED ME," he stated, taking a step towards the fiend ahead of him. Another step. In a matter of seconds, Pyramid Head was in striking distance of the slightly smaller demon.

"So, I did," Valtiel admitted, shrugging innocently. A cackle escaped his throat and his tongue licked at the flaps of skin outlining his mouth. "What are you going to do about it?"

Pyramid Head had had all that he could take; both his arms rose, fingers poised to kill. Latex-covered hands clenched tightly around Valtiel's neck, pressing down to the bone. Valtiel watched the angered being with great amusement, his laughter echoing throughout the hospital room. With a quick flick of demonic wrists, a loud _crack_ was heard and all cackling ceased. Pyramid Head grunted contently as the faceless demon's head fell against his shoulder, his neck cocked at an inhuman angle.

The Great One's relief was short lived, however, when Valtiel's body convulsed violently before melting into a viscous fluid. Skin and muscle slipped through Pyramid Head's clenched fingers and dripped into a fleshy puddle at the demon's feet. The puddle suddenly jerked and, in the blink of an eye, slid behind the pyramid-wielding being. Pyramid Head quickly turned around, the puddle boiling and bubbling rapidly across the room. The simmering skin and tissue swiftly rose into the air, where it began to meld and reshape itself. Valtiel's sinister smile mocked the Great One once the faceless demon's form was regained.

A sharp, high-pitched cackle pierced the hospital room as Valtiel reached a hand towards a nearby tiled wall; his grin stretched wider. Pyramid Head's muscles twitched anxiously as he watched the demon's every move, ready to leap upon him if anything proved the least bit threatening. Neither demon moved as both waited and watched the other, searching for any sign of an attack. When this searching proved useless, Valtiel quickly whipped his hand against the wall and began drawing and tracing intricate symbols into the tile.

Pyramid Head growled in rage and he grabbed hold of a nearby drip stand, raising it above his helmet as he rushed towards the faceless being. When the creature was in range, the Great One didn't waste time in his attack; he swung the drip stand viciously, targeting the empty, sneering visage. Valtiel was faster, however, and he pressed his palm against the wall, a dull red light enveloping his fist. He quickly drew back his hand, pulling forth a wheel-shaped valve in its wake and he began to twist and grind the valve furiously.

The drip stand missed its mark as its wielder stumbled, unable to find his footing for a split second. A bone-shattering earthquake took hold of the hospital room and took Pyramid Head as its prisoner, sending the demon to his knees. Turning his pyramid-shaped helmet towards Valtiel, Pyramid Head caught a glimpse of a maniacal sneer. "VALTIEL," the demon roared, his fists pounding into the trembling floor beneath him. Where the demon struck the ground, rust and mold appeared and the decay spread around him like a disease. A ring of the infectious Other World encircled him and the tainted floor began to sink and collapse downward. Caught in Valtiel's trap, a replica of quicksand, Pyramid Head slowly melted into the depths of the floor. The cold fingers and hands of the Other World creatures gripped and tugged on his submerged ankles and calves, their nails clawing and scraping against long dead flesh. The demon released a snarl of anger and disapproval for Valtiel as he was pulled deeper into the ground, promising an unpleasant and fitting punishment when the two crossed paths again.

Valtiel watched the last of the Great One disappear back to his original home, the Other World version of Silent Hill. A smile plagued his featureless face and the demon's fingers curled tighter around the valve. He reversed the spinning of the wheel and the universe bent to his will. The pool of rust and destruction in the middle of the hospital room floor sizzled and shrank in size, retreating back whence it came. Time seemed to travel backwards as objects, broken from the earthquake, repaired themselves; the hospital room appeared as it had before the Great One's arrival. The rusted, wheel-shaped valve withdrew from Valtiel's touch and vanished in the depths of the wall when there were no traces of the Other World left.

Clenching tightly the hand that once held the valve, Valtiel turned his head towards the hospital bed. The blonde-haired human lay passed out on the covers of the bed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically in his sleep. Tilting his neck to the side, Valtiel watched the man with curiosity. "What exactly are you?" whispered Valtiel, his hands twitching eagerly at their sides. "What does the Great One see in you that I don't?"

The demon stretched a hand towards the sleeping being and rested it on James' forehead. He marveled at how warm the man's flesh was, how _alive_ it was. Though it wasn't every day that he came across such creatures, Valtiel had seen many humans in his time. They all looked the same to him. They all lived the same, meaningless lives. They had no purpose. Thus brought up the question as to why _this_ human was so special. The Great One found something in this being that no other mortal possessed. But what was it?

Valtiel's masked face distorted in confusion as it gazed at James. His fingers brushed lightly against the man's skin, gently stroking it before pulling away. "Maybe one day you'll show me…," began the faceless demon, a smile sliding across his lips, "…what makes you different."

-

Mary pushed a bright red button on the coffee maker located in the Staff Lounge. While she held a small mug underneath the flowing, black liquid, the nurse hummed an unknown tune to herself. The strong scent of coffee tantalized her senses and she pleasantly breathed it in. In her small hands, the mug began to increase slightly in temperature and it was quickly filled to the brim with fluid. She pushed the same button she had before and turned off the machine, removing the cup from underneath its faucet.

Next to the coffee maker rested small packets of sugar and creamer. Mary looked thoughtfully at these items for a few seconds before grabbing two packets of sugar and three creamers, ripping open the small cartridges and pouring the contents into the mug. With a small straw she found by the sugar packets, she stirred and whisked the coffee, turning the dark black into a soft brown color. "There. I hope he likes it," said Mary to no one in particular. She wrapped both hands around the mug, ignoring the heat nipping at her palms and fingertips, and marched out of the lounge.

She trotted at a fair pace down the hallway, stopping to nod and smile at a few friendly coworkers. As she turned onto the hallway leading toward the male dormitories, a pensive smile crossed her lips and her mind drifted. Doors passed and she came to a halt in front of room "205", taking one hand from the hot mug to push open the door. She noticed that the room seemed a little "off" (quite literally since Mary found the room dark and lacking any form of light). Wandering in anyway, the nurse smiled and spoke in a cheery voice, "Mr. Sunderland, I thought you might want some coffee to help keep you awa--"

A white coffee mug fell from small, fragile hands and collided with the tiled hospital floor. The cup shattered and burst into dozens of pieces and a brown liquid spilled from its container, staining any surface it came into contact with. Mary paid no heed to the puddle of coffee at her feet and instead, with mouth agape, she gawked at something in the darkness. Lying on the hospital bed was James Sunderland, eyes closed, and he was unresponsive. Panic struck Mary at that instant and her mouth twitched, unable to find her voice. Once she found it, she screeched at the top of her lungs, "_DOCTOR!_"

-

James fumbled around in the darkness, his hand searching for the light switch. When his fingers brushed up against it, he gave it a flick and a small room became illuminated. His eyes immediately focused on his new surroundings, which actually proved fairly familiar; he was in his bedroom back at home. His bed rested in the western corner, coated with black pillows varying in size and a green comforter. The bed was a queen size, the most James could afford, but he and Mary found that it was cozy nonetheless. Along with the bed, James recognized two nightstands, a closet, a chest containing clothes, a small television atop the chest, and a wooden desk. Something on the desk caught James' eye and the man wandered over towards it. On top of a few meaningless papers and bills rested a small envelope. A blonde eyebrow raised and James leaned over to pick it up. On the surface of the letter was the name "Mary", his wife's name. Hands shook as he turned over the letter and unfolded it, taking out of it a piece of paper. James nervously licked at his chapped lips as he began to read:

"_In my restless dreams, I see that town._

_Silent Hill._

_You promised you'd take me there again someday,_

_But you never did._

_Well, I'm alone there now…_

_In our 'special place'…_

_Waiting for you…_"

Tears welled in the corners of James' blue eyes. "What…what is this?" he whispered shakily, his grip tightening on the paper. He scanned and reread the paper over and over, not seeming to believe what he was reading the least. "What is this?" he repeated, confused and frustrated. This was his wife's handwriting. Tiny numbers on the right-hand corner of the letter stated that it had been sent out a few days ago. But there was one major problem with this. A soft sob escaped his throat. "…A dead person can't write a letter."

A brisk wind appeared out of nowhere, wrapping and entangling itself about James' person. The man let out a shocked cry as the powerful gust blinded him, all images of his comforting bedroom vanishing in an instant. As suddenly as it had arrived, the wind dispersed, leaving James stunned and dazed in its wake and in the presence of totally different surroundings.

A brilliant blue lake rested in front of James, small waves lapping at the shore only a few inches from his feet. Thick mist distorted the body of water and, as James realized, everything else. The man could barely see any further than six feet in front of him and the feeling made him uncomfortable, fearful. He took a quick step back and bumped into a hard, wooden surface. Turning around, James found that it was a signpost. "Toluca Lake", it announced in bright white letters.

"Toluca Lake…," muttered James, his gaze falling upon the water once more. "Could this be the 'special place' Mary mentioned?" The blonde-haired man recalled that on their trip to Silent Hill, he and Mary had spent a whole day watching and sitting by the beautiful lake. "Could Mary…really be here?" he asked himself, slowly stepping towards the shore. He crouched, his hands resting on his knees, and he bent over to get a good look at the water. His reflection greeted him. James blinked and drew back slightly in shock as said reflection began to shift and change. His dirty green jacket turned to a white, blood-covered apron. His hands became glossy as a strange surface covered them. And his face… His face was no longer visible, hidden underneath a dark crimson pyramid-shaped helmet.

"Oh god," whispered James as he stared in terror at the image. The man wanted to scream, to run away and hide, but his limbs were frozen and unmoving. The reflection moved; a latex-covered hand reached out toward James, beckoning. "No. Please, no," he begged, unable to look away from the horror in the depths of the water.

Suddenly, James found himself slowly leaning further towards the water, towards the hand that lay just underneath its surface. He tried to stop, but his body refused to obey, pushing him closer towards the reflection instead. When his nose barely touched the water, the image underneath lashed out and the gloved hand burst forth from the water, latching itself around James' face and pulling the man deep into the lake's darkness…

-

James woke with a start, his eyes snapping open and cold sweats enveloping his body. He panted quietly, running a hand along his forehead to wipe away stray beads of sweat. _It was…all a dream?_ he thought, remembering the strong emotions and how frighteningly _real_ everything seemed. The letter, the lake, the…the thing in his reflection, the thing with the pyramid helmet…Were they all real?

"Jesus, Mary! All this commotion and you didn't even give him the proper examination?! God, you're acting just like a friggin' trainee!"

Dr. Wilkins' voice quickly drew James out of his thoughts and the blonde-haired man quieted his mind to listen to reality.

"I-I'm sorry, doctor. I was just…shocked, that's all." A sound of porcelain scraping against the floor was heard.

"Well, you shouldn't have been shocked! You should have just waltzed on over to him, checked his pulse, and then you should've calmly alerted me. God, now look at this mess…You just had to go and spill the coffee, too."

"I'm sorry, doctor."

"And, what d'ya know, there's Mr. Sunderland perfectly awake!" the doctor said hurriedly, obviously distracted.

James felt it was finally safe for him to open his eyes, which he did very slowly. He was immediately met by Dr. Wilkins' smiling face. "How are ya, Mr. Sunderland?" the doctor asked, placing a hand on his patient's shoulder. James frowned. "I'm fine, I think."

"Good, good…," said the brown-haired man, his hand squeezing softly and firmly. "Now, why exactly were you sleeping? I thought I instructed you to stay fully awake for the rest of the day."

"I…," began James, attempting to remember what had caused him to fall asleep. "…I must have dosed off while watching cartoons on the television."

A chuckle escaped Dr. Wilkins' throat. "Ah…Good ol' television…," he muttered somewhat sarcastically before switching to a more serious tone. "You must not have been asleep for too long, by the looks of it. I guess Mary's scream and the dropped cup of coffee must've been enough to wake you up." He frowned. "Let's make sure not to let that happen again." The doctor made a few swift motions of his fingers towards Mary and she obliged, throwing away the dirty paper towels used to clean up her mess in a nearby garbage can before appearing by the doctor's side. "Let's get someone to watch Mr. Sunderland for the rest of tonight," Dr. Wilkins ordered, glaring at James for a split second. "We _don't_ want him to fall asleep again."

Mary nodded, her chestnut locks bobbing slightly. Without another word, she departed the room in search of someone to watch over her patient. Dr. Wilkins watched the nurse, waiting until she was well out of hearing-distance, before grumbling, "God, I need a smoke." He grinned at James (probably not in a good way) before leaving the room as well, his hand stuck deep in his doctor's jacket in search of a pack of cigarettes.

A few minutes passed before Mary returned, this time with another nurse. "Mr. Sunderland," she began, leading the new arrival towards James' bed, "This is Nurse Betty. She's going to stay with you for a couple more hours to make sure that you remain fully awake." A frown curled onto James' lips as he got a good look at the nurse Mary brought in.

Betty was a hefty woman, her skin the color of chocolate and her hair a long, black and nappy mess. Her lips puffed out as if she had smelled something unappealing and her eyes were small and squinty. She glared at James, a frightening aura radiating from her flesh, and the man shrunk back slightly and smiled nervously at the nurse. "Um…H-hello, Betty," he greeted simply, hoping not to anger her. Betty replied with a small grunt, her intimidating gaze not once leaving him.

Mary smiled and placed a comforting hand on James' shoulder. "Don't worry, she doesn't bite," she attempted to assure him. James didn't buy it. After giving another soft smile, Mary quickly exited the room to resume her duties elsewhere in the hospital, leaving James and Betty drenched in a heavy silence.

James squirmed uneasily underneath the black nurse's glare and his fingers dug into his blanket. He bit softly at his lower lip as he tried to divert his eyes away from her. They quickly came to a rest on the room's television and he felt the remote just by his fingertips. "I…think I'm going to watch some television, now," he muttered to no one in particular, his gaze fixed upon the t.v. With the remote at hand, the man began to idly flip through channels. He could still feel Betty watching him intently, but he tried hard to ignore the sensation.

For a couple more hours, James continued to change channels – stopping occasionally when something interesting came on – and Betty continued to stare at him. _God, this is getting really uncomfortable…_, thought James as the second hour of nonstop glaring passed by.

As if on cue, a familiar face peeked out from the room's entrance and caught James' attention almost immediately. Dr. Wilkins grinned once he spotted James and the doctor quickly let himself in. With a wave of his hand, the brown-haired man ushered Betty out of the room. "We no longer require your services, Betty," he stated as the nurse half-walked, half-waddled out of the room, a low grunt escaping her lips before she exited completely.

"Good morning, James," said Dr. Wilkins, a smile spreading across his face as he studied his patient. "Did Betty do a good job of keeping you awake?"

James' lips formed a thin line and he nodded stiffly. "Yeah." _And she did a good job of scaring the living crap out of me, too_, he wanted to add.

"Ah, that's good." Dr. Wilkins lifted his arm and pushed up his sleeve slightly, taking a look at the watch lying underneath. "Looks like I arrived just in time," he said, his gaze shifting toward James once more. "Your appointment with the psychiatrist is only a few minutes away."

The blonde-haired man blinked. "You were able to get me an appointment that quickly?" he asked, slightly shocked.

Dr. Wilkins grinned, brushing a stray brown lock of hair from his eyes. "Yep. This is a very small hospital and we don't get many patients, so the psychiatrist has plenty of time to spare. Oh! Speaking of time, we'd better not waste any more. C'mon, I'll be your chaperone."

-

James, now able to walk properly and without any assistance, stood in front of a large door with a small sign that read "Psychiatrist". He bit his lower lip, a common habit he had whenever he got nervous, and hesitated at the entrance. Dr. Wilkins stood beside him and gave him an expectant look. "Are you going to go in there some time today, Mr. Sunderland?" Ignoring the doctor's impatience, James decided to curl his fingers into a fist and he lightly rapped his knuckles on the door. The hollow sound of bone against wood echoed for a split-second before a high pitched, squeaky voice answered with a cheery, "Come in!"

James gently pushed the door open and was greeted by a short, chubby man in his late fifties. A wide smile took up the majority of his face, but his large glasses practically enveloped it. He was dressed in a brown vest with matching pants and a bright red tie adorned his neck. The man smiled wider at James, his teeth gleaming almost as much as the bald spot atop his head. He tapped a pudgy hand against his desk and said softly, "Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Sunderland?"

James smiled uneasily and complied, slowly lowering himself into the chair and eyeing the psychiatrist suspiciously. Said psychiatrist nodded and beamed at this and turned his gaze to Dr. Wilkins, who was now leaning against the doorframe with an amused look on his face. "I believe I can handle things from here," the plump man said, his eyes twinkling.

"I know, I know," replied Dr. Wilkins. "I'll get out of your hair, Smithy." He chuckled briefly at his pun and proceeded to leave the office. "Have fun, Mr. Sunderland!" he yelled over his shoulder, sarcasm clearly evident in his voice.

James gulped and stared anxiously at the man in front of him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sunderland," the man said to James, "You have nothing to be afraid of. My office is meant to be a place of refuge, a sanctuary of happiness." He spread his arms out beside him, motioning to their surroundings. "Now, I don't believe I've formally introduced myself," he said, leaning his elbow on his desk and eyeing James. He held his other hand out to the blond man and stated, "I'm Dr. Smithy Payne, the one and only psychiatrist of Brookhaven Hospital. But you can just call me Mr. Payne." Payne smiled cheerfully.

James grasped Payne's hand with his own and shook it slightly. "I…I'm James Sunderland."

"Wonderful!" the psychiatrist cried, throwing his arms up into the air. "Now that we're acquainted, we can get down to business!" He reached into his desk and withdrew a blank piece of paper along with a couple of used crayons and passed them to James. "I'd like for you to draw a picture of exactly what you're feeling right now."

The blond man hesitated before choosing a yellow and blue crayon. He decided to use the dull, yellow crayon first and he mulled over his thoughts and emotions. _This shouldn't be so bad_, thought James and he began to scribble bright yellow lines across the paper. When he finished with the yellow crayon, he picked up the blue one and made dark splotches randomly about the paper. He was about to reach for a different color until his eyes fell upon a dark red crayon. It held a familiar crimson shade that sent shivers down his spine and wrenched his stomach. Images from his past night's dream flashed in his mind and they quickly flooded his thoughts. All he could see was the beast with the crimson pyramid-shaped helmet, its latex-gloved hand wrapping itself around his throat and later beckoning to him in the depths of a forgotten body of water.

Suddenly, the images vanished and he snapped back to reality. Sweat had gathered on his skin and his throat was uncomfortably dry. He swallowed a few times and shook his head, clearing it of any residual visions and emotions, before looking up at Payne. The psychiatrist's eyes were fixed on James' paper, wide with confusion and intrigue. James raised an eyebrow and turned his own eyes upon the paper.

His heart sank.

In the dead center of his blue and yellow drawing was a large, crimson triangle. It seemed to glare ominously up at its blond-haired creator. James' heart began to pound against his chest and he had a powerful desire to snatch up the paper and tear it and rip it into pieces, destroying the red thing that mocked and terrified him. Before he could put his desire into action, Payne seized the paper and began to rigorously analyze it.

"I understand what this is," Payne began, his fat finger tracing the yellow lines. "These symbolize your nervousness and anxiety, probably from your current situation. These…," he moved his finger over to the blue patches,"…These symbolize deep depression and sadness. But this…" His finger came to a rest on the red triangle. "I have no idea what this means." His eyes, which, just a few seconds ago, had been sparkling and jubilant, were now dull and baffled. They rose from the red image and rested upon James. "Do you…have any idea of what this could mean?"

James was stiff and still, his glance shifting from the menacing triangle to Payne's inquiring eyes. "I…I think it might symbolize the…the anger I've been feeling, lately."

Payne pondered James' lie for a few seconds and slowly nodded his head. "That might be it," he said. The rotund psychiatrist lifted himself from his seat and trudged over to his bookcase, thumbing through his many volumes about the science of the human mind. "I'll have to do some research on this." He pulled out a thick, ancient book and flipped it open. "Our session is done for today, Mr. Sunderland. You can return back to your room."

James forced himself to smile and he gradually eased himself from the chair and out of the room, leaving Payne to his work. He quietly closed the door and shakily continued down the hospital hallway. Instead of heading back to his room, he found a deserted section of the hospital where he rested for a few moments. He brushed back his hair with the palm of his hand, and let out a deep sigh. The red triangle still lingered in his mind, along with the pyramid thing that it symbolized. James leaned his back against the smooth, white wall and slowly slid into a sitting position. His head drooped forward against his chest and he could feel his breath growing heavier. His hands clenched into fists and he banged them with all his might against the tiled floor. He flinched from the resulting pain and cursed. "What's happening to me?" he asked himself. "What is this…this _thing_ that I keep seeing? Am I…going insane?"

"Not at all…James."

James' head snapped into an upright position and his eyes grew wide in response to the abrupt voice. His hands sought out the wall behind him and he quickly got to his feet. He surveyed the space around him in search of the voice, but he couldn't find the source. Shakily, he asked, "I-is…Is someone there?"

A strange, grotesque cackle answered and seemed to emanate from all directions, echoing all around the man and sending tremors throughout his body. Suddenly, James felt the wall behind him increase in temperature to an almost scalding degree and it began to bubble and boil against him. Before he could remove himself from the surface, two arms burst forth from the wall and wrapped James in a deadly embrace. The blond man's breath escaped from his lungs and he gasped for air as the strong arms began to squeeze the life out him. His hands groped and flailed at the arms and he succeeded in breaking away from the thing's hold. James stumbled away from the wall, panting and weak, and watched in horror as the owner of the arms emerged. A flesh-covered face greeted James with a vicious, demented grin.

After the last of Valtiel had come forth from the wall, the demon let loose an ear-piercing screech of laughter. It gazed, with disgust and hatred, upon the blond-haired man before him. This shriveled, shaking, trembling mess…Why would the Great One have any interest in such a pitiful, revolting thing? The demon smiled wider at James, its tongue tracing the flaps of skin around his mouth hungrily.

Valtiel quickly approached James before the human could react and the demon grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, lifting him from the floor. James coughed and sputtered and again flailed his arms about, trying to escape; this pleased Valtiel.

"Hello, James," the thing said, smirking maliciously. "I don't believe we've officially met."

"Wh-who are you?!" James cried, gasping for breath and clawing at Valtiel's arm. The effort continued to prove unsuccessful, and James realized this. This thing…It wasn't human.

Valtiel's mouth contorted into a scowl and he roughly shook James, slamming him harder into the wall. "You don't need to know my name…" The creature grinned wider, revealing rows of impossibly large and jagged teeth. "…'cause you'll be dead in a few moments."

James felt intense pain shoot through his shoulder as the demon sunk its teeth into his flesh. The man released an ear-piercing shriek as skin and muscle tore from bone. His struggling grew more frantic and he managed to grab hold of the thing's face and pry it from him. The demon was strong, however, and continued to persist, its menacing jaws snapping with immense power and hunger and its blood-stained teeth shimmering gruesomely. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, James was able to shove Valtiel away and slip out of the creature's grasp. The thing released a high-pitched noise, something between that of a growl and a cry of glee, before pursuing the blond-haired man.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god_, James thought hysterically as he ran for his life, turning endless corners and almost slipping on the smooth, tiled floor. His heart pounded frantically against his ribs and he could hear the snarling creature right behind him, inches away from claiming his life.

Sheer agony pierced James' back as the demon's claws found their mark. A blood-curdling scream escaped James' throat and he fell to the ground. He scrambled to get back on his feet, enduring the pain as best as he could, and he took off running once more. _It's going to get me, it's going to get me, oh god, it's going to get me_, he thought, panic overtaking his mind. But he soon noticed that the demon's footsteps grew farther and farther away. The last remnant of the demon was a faraway cry: "What does he see in you?!"

Suddenly, James escaped the labyrinth of empty hallways and came into a large clearing filled with doctors and nurses. "Help me! Oh god, help me!" he screamed at them. When the medics caught sight of the man, all their eyes widened and a few nurses covered their gaping mouths with slender hands. The doctors rushed towards him, bombarding him with questions all the while.

"The thing! The thing! The thing!" James cried. "It tried to kill me! The thing! The thing!"

"What thing?" a small, plump doctor asked.

"The thing! In the hallway! It tried to kill me! It tried to KILL me!" James' voice turned to a shriek as the doctors continued staring at him, unable to understand. "Goddammit!" he yelled, grabbing a nearby skinny white-coat and shaking him ruthlessly by the shoulders. "Listen to me! That thing tried to kill me! It tried to kill me! It tried to KILL me!"

He was wrenched from the thin doctor and restrained by several larger ones. He continued to scream and he tried desperately to escape. However, the doctors held him firmly.

"What in blazes is going on in here?"

James recognized the familiar voice of Dr. Wilkins and saw the doctor approach him. "The thing!" James cried once more, struggling in the grasp of the medics. "It tried to kill me!"

Dr. Wilkins' eyes widened as he looked at the crazed and bloody mess before him. "Sedate him," he ordered. "Quickly!"

A nearby female doctor complied, preparing a syringe filled with a tranquilizer.

"NO!" James shrieked. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!!!" He managed to free one arm and he struck out violently against a nearby nurse. She recoiled, her hands covering her bleeding face. When she removed her hands to check the bleeding, James' heart sank.

Mary's brown eyes looked at her crimson hands. Slowly, her gaze drifted towards James, a shocked, hurt expression contained within.

James felt a sharp sting as a needle pierced his neck. He felt the cold liquid enter his bloodstream. His eyes immediately began to droop and his legs lost all feeling, causing him to collapse to the floor. He succumbed to darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rating:** T. Just to be safe, you know.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

* * *

James felt a cold breeze brush against his body. Feeling began to come back in his limbs and his mind slowly buzzed awake. He became conscious of a rough, hard surface under him and, upon further inspection with the palms of his hands, he realized it was the tarry surface of a road.

James eased his aching eyes open and was greeted by a thick, heavy fog. Through the fog, he could see small buildings; each contained tiny, individual shops, abandoned and tattered, left to rot in the midst of the fog-ridden town. "Where am I?" he asked himself.

Little by little, James struggled to achieve a standing position, hindered by intense pain in his back and shoulder. He placed a hand on his shoulder and drew it back, observing how the blood clung to his fingers. "I'm…hurt?" he whispered, wiping the liquid on his pants absent-mindedly.

"James! Oh, thank god! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

James turned his gaze behind him and saw a woman running towards him. She wore black boots that rose to her knees, a pink leopard-print skirt, and a red V-neck shirt that showed off a little bit of her midsection. She had short blonde hair that framed her peculiar, familiar face…

James' eyes widened in shock. "Mary!" he yelled, running to meet her despite the burning pain in his body. The woman stopped in her tracks. When James caught up to her, he realized that he had been mistaken. "You're…you're not Mary…"

She gave him a cross look. "I sure as hell am not," the woman said, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at James. "How many times do we have to go over this, James?"

"You look so much like her…like Mary…," he whispered. "You two could be twins…"

"I know. You already told me that. Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to pull yourself together. Your wife is dead. I'm not your wife. I'm Maria." With that, the woman grabbed hold of James' jacket sleeve and tugged him forward. He let out a muffled groan and winced. "What's your prob--" she began before catching sight of his shoulder wound. "Hey…You're bleeding." She tenderly touched his arm and looked over the bloody mess. "Looks like something really tore you up," she commented. "We should head over to the hospital and get you some bandages for that."

"The hospital?" James asked.

"Yeah," replied Maria, turning her head and pointing a finger at a somewhat tall structure off in the distance. "It's still got some medical supplies there, even if it's in this dump." She took hold of James' hand, much more gently this time, and urged him to follow. "Come on, let's get you patched up."

James allowed Maria to lead him through the foggy, desolate streets, past buildings on the verge of collapse and past cars coated over with rust. Along the sidewalks, James observed what appeared to be large beetles. When he questioned Maria about what they were, she answered, "Those are Creepers. Stay away from them and they won't bother you."

"Are they dangerous?" the blond-haired man asked innocently.

"Very. Don't underestimate them. They'll eat you in a heartbeat."

James' stomach churned. "How do you know so much about this place?"

Maria chuckled and brushed back a stray lock of hair. "I was born here. Before all this." She waved her arms out, motioning towards the town. "It was a really nice place. Lots of people….Lots of tourists on the other side of town… It was a bustling place."

"So…what happened to it?"

Maria's face grew stern. "People started disappearing. One day they were there, and the next they were gone. Vanished. Right out of thin air. Like something came down from the sky and snatched them away. People started getting scared; a lot of them left the town. This fog appeared out of nowhere one day and the last of the people disappeared. There might be a few left here, in this town, but I doubt it." She shrugged. "The only things left here are you, me, and those monsters."

"Monsters? Like those bugs?"

Maria laughed. "No, James. There are worse ones out there. Like the thing that got you; something that could skin you alive or kill you brutally."

James attempted to remember how he got his injuries, but all his mind could draw up was a blank. But James agreed with Maria; whatever got a hold of him must've been something from this town…and it must've been deadly.

Suddenly, Maria stopped, thrusting her arm in front of James' chest to keep him from moving forward. She raised a finger slowly to her lips and her eyes focused on something deep in the fog. James' eyes followed her stare and he could vaguely make out the silhouette of a person in the distance. "Maria, what are you doing?" he asked. "That's a person out there! There's someone here besides us!" He waved his arms over his head and yelled, "Hey! Hey, you!"

The figure in the distance turned its head at the sound of James' voice and began coming towards them.

"James, you _idiot_!" screeched Maria. She reached down the side of her boot and withdrew a small pistol. She quickly filled it with bullets, cocked it, and aimed it at the faraway person.

"Wait! Maria, what are you doing? Don't shoot him!" pleaded James, trying to take the weapon from her hands. She pulled the gun away from his grasp. "You really think that's a person, huh? Fine. I won't shoot." She lowered her gun to her side, smiling cleverly at James as the "person" emerged from the shadow. James gasped.

The "person" had a human-like figure, but nothing else about it was the least bit human. For one, the creature had no face. Its whole body appeared to have been severely burned and its flesh had melted all over its body, trapping its arms in a straightjacket-like position within its skin. It had a large hole in the middle of its chest which leaked a sizzling liquid onto the ground as it writhed and stumbled towards them. The thing paused when it was fifteen feet away and began to shriek and arch its back, thrusting its chest forward.

"Look out!" yelled Maria, aiming her pistol at the creature and filling it full of bullets. The creature collapsed instantly onto the street, twitching and thrashing itself helplessly against the ground. "What are you waiting for?" cried Maria as she struggled to reload her pistol. "Go over there and finish it off before it gets up, again!"

James looked around for a weapon, some object he could use to kill the thing once and for all. His eyes came across a small lead pipe and, seeing no other weapon-like object nearby, he quickly grabbed it and ran towards the creature. When he was in range, James lifted the pipe high over his head and smashed it down into the thing's face. The creature screeched in pain and tried to avoid the beatings James was inflicting on it with the pipe. He hit the creature over and over again, waiting for it die. When the pipe's effect wore off, James used his last resort: his foot. He slammed the heel of his boot in the middle of the creature's face, crunching its skull and splattering its brains out onto the street.

James leaned over, panting and sweating profusely. His whole body was shaking from the adrenaline. "Oh my god, I killed it…," he whispered in disbelief.

Maria walked up behind him and put her slender hand on his uninjured shoulder. "You did well, James," she said.

They started walking once more towards the hospital, hardly a word passing between them. When an hour passed, James decided to speak up. "What…what was that?"

"The creature we killed?" she asked. "That was a Lying Figure. They roam the streets and hide under cars, looking and waiting for something to kill."

"Something like us?"

"Exactly."

"How…does it kill its prey?"

Maria pointed at her chest. "You remember that hole it had?"

James nodded.

"Did you see the liquid dripping out of it?"

"Yeah, what was it?"

"Acid. Real acid. When it arches its back like that, it means that it's about to spray a whole bunch of it at you and you _don't_ want that to happen." She pulled up her shirt a little to reveal her back, its skin wrinkled and deformed from a harsh burn. "I was careless." James kept silent and she lowered the garment back down. "We're almost at the hospital," she pointed out.

A few minutes later, they reached the large, dirty building. Maria walked up to the double doors and waited impatiently, arms crossed. "Ladies first," she said, smiling at James as he opened the door for her. When the doors closed behind them, they were enclosed by pure darkness. "How are we supposed to see in this?" James asked, straining his eyes in the blackness.

"With this," Maria replied, pulling a small, clip-on flashlight from her belt and placing it in James' hand.

James clipped the device onto his green jacket and pressed a small button on its side, instantly illuminating the empty lobby. Maria, who had her gun up and ready, lowered it. "There are some disgusting monsters in here," she whispered. "Keep an eye out for them."

She walked over to a bulletin board on a wall by the entrance and grabbed a piece of paper containing a detailed map of the hospital. "We'll need this," she said, passing the paper over to James so he could take a look at it. James skimmed the map over and asked, "Where are we supposed to find the supplies?"

Maria laughed. "I don't know."

James smiled hesitantly and gave the map back to Maria. "Here, you be the navigator. I've never seen this place before."

Maria led James to the eastern section of the hospital where the doctors' offices were located. They walked slowly and cautiously, Maria's pistol cradled against her chest and James' lead pipe held out in front of him, ready to strike. They kept travelling down multiple hallways and peeked into desolate rooms, but there were no supplies to be found.

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong section," James suggested.

Maria nodded in agreement and they began heading back towards the lobby. On their way back, however, both Maria and James heard noises coming from an adjacent hallway. Maria placed her finger to her lips again, but James didn't need to be told twice. His grip tightened on the lead pipe and he waited for the monster to show itself.

From the hallway appeared a strange creature clad in a nurse's outfit. Its skin was wrinkled and had a grayish hue to it and it, like the other creature, was faceless. A small, silver scalpel glittered menacingly in its hand.

Maria aimed her pistol at the thing's head and waited for it to get a little closer. When the "nurse" caught sight of James' flashlight, that's exactly what it did. The creature let out a shriek and raised its scalpel as it ran towards James and Maria.

"Shoot it!" yelled James, and Maria did so three times before stopping. "What are you doing? Keep shooting it!"

Maria kept pulling the trigger, but it only resulted in clicking sounds. "I can't! I'm out of ammo!"

James cursed under his breath and ran to meet the creature, pipe held high. It came crashing down onto the Nurse's head just as its scalpel found a place in James' arm. The nurse crumpled to the floor and James stomped its head in, just as he did with the Lying Figure. He took hold of the scalpel embedded in his arm and pulled it out, a stream of blood following.

Maria rushed over to the Nurse's corpse and began rummaging through it. "Here," she said, passing James a roll of bandages that she scavenged. "Thanks," he said, grinning at her as he wrapped the gauze around his arm wound.

They continued back to the lobby and paused to consult their map. "Let's try the western section," proposed James. "That's where the dormitories are located and there's sure to be some supplies in there."

As they traveled through the western portion of the hospital, James began to realize something. _This place looks really familiar..._, he thought. _I feel like I've been here before..._

"Hey, Maria," he began, "let me lead for a little bit. I think I know where to go."

Maria looked puzzled. "I thought you said you've never been here, before."

James shrugged but began walking down a hallway with Maria following behind him. He looked at the numbers on the doors, "556", "555", "554"... He turned left into another hallway. "111", "112", "113"… He felt as if he was getting closer to something. His pace quickened to an almost run and he turned down two more hallways. "234", "233", "232"… His heart was racing in his chest. "212", "211", "210"… He was almost there. "208", "207", "206"… "205."

James stopped. His eyes stared at the three numbers, engraved in a rusted, bronze plate.

"What is it?" asked Maria when she finally caught up to him. "Why the rush?"

"This room…," whispered James. His hand found the door handle and he was hesitant to turn it, afraid that some nightmare might lie beyond the door. His heart ushered him on, however, persisting that something important lay in wait. He opened the door.

"…Maria," he said after a long pause, his eyes never leaving the room. "…What's the name of this hospital?"

Maria raised her eyebrow. "It's Brookhaven Hospital. Why do you ask?"

James kept silent. He let go of the door handle and walked into the room. He surveyed his surroundings: the visitors' chairs, the white cabinets, the broken television, and the bed…his bed. "This is my room," he whispered. "This is the hospital I'm staying at…Why is it here?"

"James, what's going on?" asked Maria, a worried tone in her voice.

He couldn't explain it to her. He didn't even know what was going on. This was his hospital room, even though it was coated in rust and mold just like the other parts of the hospital. "_What's happening…?_"

"James…? James…..?"

_Maria's voice sounds so far off…_ He turned his head slowly and his vision became blurry. He couldn't make out Maria's face. He tried to say something, but he couldn't speak. _Maria…Maria…_

"James……..? James……………? James………………………………….."

-

James woke with a start. His eyes snapped wide open and he gasped for air. He looked around him, expecting to see the rusted hospital room in his dream. Instead, he saw the familiar white, clean room.

_What on Earth was that?_ he thought to himself, mulling over the strange dream. _That woman…That other world…Are they somehow connected to this one?_

He inadvertently tried to raise his hand to wipe sweat off his brow, but noticed that his motion was restricted; both his wrists had been tied down to the bed with strong rope. "What is this?" he muttered out loud, pulling his arms and trying to break free of the bondage. He tried to move his legs and realized those were held down as well. "What's going on here?" he said louder.

"Good morning, Mr. Sunderland."

James turned his head to the door to his room and saw Dr. Wilkins enter. The doctor's face was stern and serious—his usual, cynical sense of humor was gone.

As the doctor pulled up a chair to the side of James' bed and sat down in it, James asked, "Dr. Wilkins, what's going on?"

The doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, a sign of obvious stress. "You don't remember yesterday…of course. The tranquilizer must still be in effect." He patted James' arm softly. "Mr. Sunderland…you went crazy yesterday. You attacked a doctor and a nurse. I want to know why. What happened?"

James let the words sink in and his memory slowly came back to him. He remembered the blood on him…So much blood…He remembered the creature with the teeth. He remembered the pain. He remembered the doctors who could not understand. He remembered the insanity. He remembered punching a nurse…He remembered punching Miss Mary…

James gulped audibly. "I'm…I'm sorry, Dr. Wilkins."

"Don't be, Mr. Sunderland. Just tell me what in God's name happened yesterday. Why were you panicking and yelling about something that was 'trying to kill you?' We searched the hallways where you kept pointing at, but we saw no signs of anyone having been there besides you."

_That's because it wasn't a person_, James thought to himself.

"Without proof showing that you were attacked, we can only conclude that your wounds were self-inflicted."

James gasped angrily. "Are you saying that I did this…to _myself_?"

Dr. Wilkins nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

James struggled furiously against the ropes holding him hostage and yelled at the doctor, "What makes you think I'd purposely hurt myself?!"

"Lack of proof," stated Dr. Wilkins simply. "Self-mutilation is the only logical explanation."

James grit his teeth painfully to keep from screaming obscenities at the doctor. _Why would he say that? He knows I'd never hurt myself!_

Dr. Wilkins' looked over his patient's tattered body and wondered the same thing about James. He noticed something odd about one of James' arms and he leaned over to inspect it closer. He realized that it was a small puncture wound made by a small, sharp object…like a scalpel. "Mr. Sunderland, what's this? This wasn't here yesterday," he said, pointing at the small wound.

James looked at it and remembered his dream. "The Nurse…," he began, but he closed his mouth from saying anything further.

"The Nurse…?" Dr. Wilkins repeated. "What Nurse? Was it someone from this hospital? James, tell me if someone here hurt you purposely."

James shook his blond head. "…Never mind. Forget that I said anything."

Dr. Wilkins leaned back, giving James a worried and disbelieving look. He folded his hands in his lap and moved on to another subject. "You have another appointment with Smithy at four o' clock, today," he uttered awkwardly.

James just looked at the doctor, giving him no response.

The doctor rose from his seat and gave James another light pat on his arm. He turned to exit the room and opened the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder and said to James, "You owe Mary an apology." With that, the doctor was out of the room and James was by himself once again.

James frowned and shifted his eyes to the ceiling. He began counting the white tiles on the ceiling, avoiding thinking about anything. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to feel pain.

When he had counted a hundred and thirteen tiles, the door to his room opened and Mary walked in, carrying a small tray of food. She looked at him apathetically as she set the tray on his food stand.

"Miss Smith…," he whispered, his blue eyes full of deep regret.

She looked at him with her brown eyes, hurt and sorrow visible behind the gentle façade. "Yes, Mr. Sunderland…?" she replied indifferently.

James opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it once more to say softly, "…I'm sorry."

Mary turned her face away from him, not accepting his apology, and began prepping his meal.

"I mean it, Mary," he asserted. "What happened yesterday…I didn't mean to do it--it was an accident."

He heard Mary whisper something under her breath, a barely audible, "Sure it was."

"Mary," he said once more, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was…I wasn't in the right state of mind, I--"

Mary cut him off mid-sentence. "Mr. Sunderland, I don't have time to hear your excuses." She slammed down the carton of milk she was holding against the tray, spilling a little bit of milk onto her hand. She grabbed the spoon on the tray, scooped up a bit of mush, and placed it by James mouth. "Don't talk anymore. Just eat."

James looked at her tenderly, his heart pounding with remorse inside of him, before he complied, opening his mouth and accepting the food. They sat there silently for half an hour, Mary giving him small spoonfuls of food and drink and James allowing her to feed him. When all the food had been exhausted, Mary stood up, tray in hand and gave a quick nod of her head, a silent goodbye. James lowered his eyes in shame and whispered one last "I'm sorry" before she left.

-

Four o' clock finally came around and Dr. Wilkins arrived punctually, along with three other nurses. The doctor fed James a small pill "to keep him calm," as he said. When James had swallowed it, the nurses proceeded to untie his limbs. The pill made James' body weak, as anticipated by the doctor, so they gently transferred him from the bed to a wheelchair. James' head lolled slightly against his shoulder, partly because of the medication and partly because of ennui and shame. The nurses, after having fulfilled their duty, departed and allowed Dr. Wilkins to stroll James to the psychiatric office.

Dr. Wilkins pushed James at an even pace, neither too fast nor too slow. The two remained in silence for most of the stroll until Dr. Wilkins interrupted it by asking a question. "How did it go with Mary?"

James frowned and turned his eyes to the floor, responding, "Not well."

"I see…," murmured the doctor. "She's really upset about what you did."

"I know…" was all James said in reply.

They reached the door to Payne's office a few minutes later. Dr. Wilkins rapped on the door with his knuckles and then shoved the door open. He pushed James to a halt in front of Smithy's desk, patted him on his uninjured shoulder, and quietly left.

Mr. Payne swiveled around in his chair and greeted, "Good morning, Mr. Sunderland!" He caught sight of James' bloody bandages and immediately commented, "Oh my! You really are a mess!"

James frowned.

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you!" Mr. Payne hurriedly and sincerely said. "I just had no idea you were this seriously injured. Unreliable sources, you see. The only news I get is from the coffee room, and they didn't even _see_ it happen." He chuckled to himself. "Anyway, Mr. Sunderland, why don't you tell me what happened that day?"

James fidgeted in his wheelchair, unsure whether to speak or not.

Payne's brows wrinkled in worry. "Why the hesitation?"

James fiddled with his fingers for a moment, thinking of a response. "I'm not sure you'd believe me," he finally said.

Mr. Payne leaned forward on his desk, the edge of the desk disappearing under his rotund belly. "Mr. Sunderland, I'm a psychiatrist. It's my job to listen to you and I care about what you have to say. You can tell me anything. I won't judge you."

"…All right…," James began. "After yesterday's appointment…I went off on my own into an unfamiliar part of the hospital."

"Why didn't you go straight back to your room?" asked Payne worriedly.

"There was…something about our last appointment…that upset me."

Mr. Payne gasped, his pudgy hands flying to the sides of his face in shock. "Did I do something wrong? Oh my, I thought I was being a most upbeat and positive fellow! Did I say something to offend you? Did I--"

James shook his head. "No, it was about the drawing."

"The…drawing?" Mr. Payne's face crinkled into a look of puzzlement. He opened one of his desk drawers and withdrew the paper James had colored on. "You mean this one? What was wrong about it?"

James lifted his hand with a bit of effort, his limbs numb and weak from the pill, and he placed his finger on the red triangle. "This is the problem," he said.

Payne's eyebrows furrowed as he said, "I thought that was a representation of your anger."

James' blond head shook again.

"Then…what _does_ it represent, Mr. Sunderland?"

"This…thing from my dreams. Ever since I got out of that coma, I've been having strange, realistic nightmares…And there's always this…this _monster_ in them."

"A…monster?" asked Payne, jotting some notes down on a nearby clipboard. "Would you care to describe it?"

James brought back recollections of his dreams, of the creature that seemed so real. It was easy to describe and, if he wanted to, he could describe every scar and splotch of blood on the creature. "It had the body of a man," he began, "and it wore a…a butcher's apron, covered in blood. It had gloves on its hands, those latex things. And its face…you couldn't see it; it was covered by a…a red, pyramid-shaped helmet thing."

Mr. Payne frowned as he took notes. "That's quite the creature," he commented. "What did it do in the dreams?"

"It tried to kill me," stated James simply.

Payne raised his eyebrows. "Was that the thing you saw in the hallway?"

Sweat began to form on James' forehead. "No," he said, an audible tremble in his voice.

"That was…a different monster?"

James nodded. "It was…similar to the other thing. It had a man's body but it wore…something like a robe. It had no face besides a mouth."

"Interesting…," murmured Payne.

"When I was in the hallway, it…came out of a wall. It was strong—it lifted me off my feet and pushed me up against a wall. It bit my shoulder with these…huge teeth." His hand unconsciously moved to his mutilated shoulder. "I escaped from it and tried to run away, but it chased me. It got close enough to slash my back. But when I got to where all the doctors and nurses were, it vanished."

Mr. Payne scribbled the last of his notes onto his clipboard and set it down. He looked James dead in the eyes and James could see the uncertainty in the psychiatrist's gaze. "That's quite the tale," said Payne, folding his hands on top of the desk.

"You don't…believe me?" asked James quietly.

Before Payne could respond, a loud knock was heard and Dr. Wilkins came into the room. "Your time's up, Mr. Sunderland," he said, smiling slightly. The doctor grabbed the wheelchair handles and started to pull James out of the room. "I'll see you tomorrow, same time," said Payne, waving at him as James disappeared through the door.

-

James lay in his hospital bed, tied up once more, his gaze resting on the television. James paid no attention to the images or voices that played for him. The screen was just a place to rest his eyes as he ventured deep into his conscience. His thoughts turned to the past night's dream.

_What was that…?_ he asked himself. The dream felt so real…as real as he was at present. He felt everything in the dream: the coldness, the warmth of Maria's hand, the pain from the Nurse's scalpel. How could a dream be so existent?

James recalled the hospital Maria had led him to; it bore the same exact name as the hospital he was currently in. It had the same layout, the same room styles. It had James' exact room. The only difference was that the hospital in the dream was empty, aside from the monsters, and its appearance…it was something out of a nightmare.

How could one place exist in two separate worlds with two separate appearances? Was the dream more than just his imagination?

James turned his eyes away from the television and turned them to his punctured arm. The same wound from the dream had appeared in this world. That dream was real.

_There's some kind of connection between this world and that other world,_ thought James. _But what is it? Why is it that every time I go to sleep I'm thrust into that other place? That…that nightmare?_

James hands grasped his blankets tightly. _Is that…where those monsters came from? The faceless one and the helmet one?_ He shivered at the thought. But something deep in his gut told him that he had some strange purpose in that other world. There was something that he was meant to do.

James' eyes began to droop and he began to get drowsy. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, fully conscious of where it would take him…


	4. Chapter 4

**Rating:** T. For violence.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

* * *

James' eyes opened and he wasn't shocked to see the fogged-filled streets of the Otherworld. He knew this wasn't a dream; this world was just as real as the one he had come from.

His blue eyes immediately started to search his surroundings for a weapon. To go unarmed in this town would mean death. A large, wooden plank resting against a nearby chain-link fence caught James' eye and the man walked over to retrieve it. He picked up the object and weighed it in his hands, finding that it was easy to carry. He noticed five nails sticking out of the tip of the board and he smiled; he could do some serious damage with this.

He surveyed his surroundings further and realized that the woman, Maria, wasn't in sight. _Where could she be?_ he asked himself. He shrugged it off, however, and proceeded to walk down the road. His grip on the nail-board tightened as he heard growling and other strange noises in the depths of the fog.

Suddenly, James became aware of the appearance of a new sound. This sound was a piercing, drawn out screech that dragged on for a few seconds, stopped, dragged on again, stopped, and so forth. The noise resembled that of a metallic object scraping against the ground. As James continued down the road, he realized that this noise seemed to be following him. He quickened his pace; the noise grew louder and faster, matching his pace.

James saw a building on the side of the road and quickly made his way to it. Perhaps it would provide a safe sanctuary away from the eerie sound.

His hand grabbed the doorknob and he thrust the door open, surprised that it was unlocked. He hurriedly rushed inside and slammed the door behind him. He sighed in relief when the noise ceased.

As James turned around to inspect the building, he immediately noticed the thick darkness. He checked his jacket and saw that the flashlight Maria had given him was still there. He smiled in gratitude as he clicked a button and lit up the room. The first thing to greet him was a sign reading "Silent Hill Historical Society." James half-grinned. This other world even had the same name as the real world.

He wandered around the room, examining shelves and desks for things that might be useful. When he walked by the counter, he noticed a few items scattered about on its surface: a first-aid kit, a small rucksack, a shotgun, and shotgun bullets. James smiled as he placed the kit into the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. _This must be my lucky day_, he thought. He looked at the nail-board and then the shotgun, deciding which one to use. He grabbed the shotgun and placed it in the rucksack, choosing to stick with a basic melee weapon until he came across a more dangerous creature.

James finished his exploration of the first room and entered the next room. His heart leaped into his throat when he looked to his left.

A gruesome painting stared back at him. It depicted a bloody scene of bodies hanging in mid-air and its main focus was on a creature with a red, pyramid-shaped helmet. _It's him…_, thought James, his hands trembling as they held the plank. He read the caption underneath the painting: "Misty day, remains of judgment." "Judgment…?" he whispered aloud. How could that nightmarish creature be connected to judgment?

He shook away the thought and walked through two more rooms. When he reached a dead-end room, he was shocked to see that one of its walls had been bashed in, leaving a huge, gaping pathway of stairs leading down to someplace. He stared into the dark entryway, wondering what lay beyond it. Suddenly, he heard vague noises from within its depths. Human voices.

James almost cried out in glee. There were more people here! James quickly suppressed his high hopes, however, remembering how he was tricked by the Lying Figure and he thought it possible for another monster to bait its prey with the use of a human voice.

The blond-haired man began his descent of the stairway, his nail-board held out in front of him cautiously. The voices became louder as James travelled further down the stairway. After a few minutes, James had reached the metal door, marked "Prison," at the end.

Slowly, he opened the door, wincing as the rusted metal creaked and ground under the pressure. The voices on the other side stopped, hearing James' entrance.

"Who's there?!" yelled a man's voice. "If you don't show yourself, I'll—I'll kill you!"

James pushed the door open to its fullest and was met by two people.

The closest person was a heavyset, young male. His boyish face was set in a stern, alert expression. He had ruffled blond hair that was covered by a backwards baseball cap. He held a small pistol out in front of him, aiming it at James' chest. "Who are you and what do you want? Are you another one of those monsters? If you are, then I'll kill you."

James instinctively raised both his hands, the universal sign of truth and replied softly. "My name is James Sunderland. I'm not monster…just a man looking for his wife."

The man gave James an unwavering leer before lowering his gun to his side.

"You're…you're looking for someone, too?" piped up a quiet voice from behind the man.

A young woman stepped out from behind him and approached James. "I'm looking for my mama—I mean my mother." She had short brown hair and a thin body. She hugged her arms around herself in an insecure manner and her voice quivered as she spoke. "I hope you find your wife, James."

James lowered his hands, looking at the two people. _By God, there really are others here._ "What are your names?" he asked.

"My name's Angela. Angela Orosco." She smiled timidly at him.

"I'm Eddie Dombrowski," replied the husky male.

"What are you two doing here, in this building?

"Probably the same thing as you," chuckled Eddie, his angry visage turning into one of pleasantness. "Hiding from those freaks outside."

Angela nodded in agreement and added, "This place is safe."

James smiled at the presence of his newfound company. They led him through the prison to the cell they had stayed in for the past two nights. Dirty quilts and blankets lined the floor and food wrappers were scattered about randomly. The three of them took a seat on the blankets and Eddie passed James a spare hamburger snatched from the town's burger joint. James took off the "Happy Burger" wrapping and began to munch hungrily on the cold substance, listening to Angela and Eddie converse.

"Have you got any clue where your mom's at?" asked Eddie.

Angela twiddled her thumbs. "No…I…I've been searching for a long time for her, but I haven't come across anything that would tell me where she's at…"

Eddie patted her on the back. "Keep looking for her. I'm sure she'll turn up soon."

"But…," began Angela timidly, "…I'm afraid to leave this prison to go out and search for her again…Daddy's always following me around…"

"…Daddy?" asked Eddie, his eyebrow rising in confusion.

"I know he is…I can feel him following me…Waiting to hurt me, again…" She shivered and her eyes began to well.

"I thought you said you couldn't find your dad," stated Eddie, getting frustrated.

"No, he's here…he's here…My Daddy…lost in this abstract world…waiting to hurt me like he used to do…waiting to do bad things to me…"

Eddie's eyes widened and his neck stiffened in anger. "Shut up," he said.

"He's here! I know he is! He's going to kill me!"

Eddie's fist suddenly smashed into Angela's face. She let out a pathetic scream and doubled over. Eddie stood up and raised his arm threateningly, prepared to punch her again. "I told you to shut up. You're reminding me of those stupid people back home."

James dropped his hamburger and quickly rose from the floor. "Whoa, whoa," he said calmly, waving his hands side-to-side and motioning for Eddie to stop. "How about we don't get violent?"

Eddie's eyes snapped viciously to James and James could see the boiling fury and hate within his eyes.

"You shut up, too. Or else," ordered Eddie. He glanced at the girl, crumpled on the floor and weeping, and he gave her a swift kick to the ribs. "I bet you're one of them!" he yelled. "I bet one of those punks sent you here to remind me of them and their sorry little butts!" He kicked her again, causing her to cry out in pain.

James' heart sank as he watched the disgusting scene. _What happened?_ he asked himself. _They were fine and happy a second ago…_ He reached down beside him and grabbed his nail-board, pointing its tip at Eddie threateningly. "Stop it," said James boldly.

Eddie ceased kicking Angela and he glared at James, again. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the pistol he had earlier. He aimed the gun at James' face and slowly cocked it. "You…," he whispered, his voice full of hate. "You're one of them, too. I knew it."

-

Smithy Payne lightly grasped and turned the steering wheel of his small car, and he kept his eyes focused on the road in front of him. He took one hand off the wheel occasionally to push his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. The psychiatrist had never quite taken to driving; the people on the road always made him uncomfortable. But he went out of his way to drive, today. He was going to the local library.

He pulled his miniature vehicle into a parking space just outside the library. After killing the ignition, he stepped out of the car and took a gander at the building. A smile crossed his lips as he thought about the thousands of book that lay in wait inside, about all the knowledge he could find within their pages.

Smithy walked up to the entrance and pushed open the glass double-doors. He gave a quick wave to the librarian before making his way into the depths of the library. He tried not to let the rows and rows of books distract him; he came here for a purpose other than his simple pleasure.

He wandered around the library for a few minutes, looking for a section he had never explored before: the "Occult" section. When he found it, he quickly went to work thumbing through book titles. He passed books about obscure metaphysics and satanic religions. Suddenly, he came across an old, decrepit book with its title hardly legible. He brushed dust from its cover with the back of his hand before opening the book, resulting in a crackling and rustling sound. The scent of incense and age infiltrated his nose as he flipped through the book's pages.

After looking over pages for a few minutes, he came across a sudden, intriguing picture. The image illustrated what appeared to be a man with an oddly-shaped crimson helm and a vicious sword in hand. Multiple images of this being were scattered about the same page, but each of them bore different head armor and wielded diverse weapons.

Smithy's eyes shifted to the column of text next to the images. It read:

"The Punisher. Created by God as a lower deity. This creature stalks and haunts those who have sinned against God. Its purpose is to force its victim to repent and then kill the victim, thus sending him into purgatory in order to be closer to God."

Smithy turned the page. The image of a man without a face greeted him and he proceeded to read the text beside it.

"Valtiel. Messenger of God. Created as a lower deity in order to be present at the rebirth of God."

Smithy frowned and furrowed his brows. "What a peculiar religion…," he muttered absently. He flipped back and forth between the two pages, studying the images closely. They resembled James' visions very, very closely…But what could they mean? Why was he seeing creatures as part of such an obscure religion?

The psychiatrist closed the book swiftly, causing a plume of dust to choke out between the pages. He turned the book over and viewed its cover once more. A name, the only thing legible on the cover, stared back at him: Dr. Michael Kaufmann.

"Dr. Kaufmann?" asked Smithy quietly to himself. "Wasn't he the old director of that other hospital here? What's it called….? Alchemilla Hospital, that's right."

The rotund psychiatrist made his way back to the librarian and handed her the tattered book. She accepted it from him, typed something quickly into her computer's database, and returned the book to Smithy. "This will be due in one month, sir," she stated. Smithy gave her a quick nod of his head as he departed the facility.

Once he was back in his car, he placed the book in his lap and opened it once more:

_The Order: Local and Ancient Religion of Silent Hill_

_A Journal by Dr. Michael Kaufmann_

_Contained within these pages are my personal insights into this specific cult. I have become closely acquainted with Dahlia Gillespie, Priestess of the Holy Woman sect, and she has taught me everything about the inside beliefs of the religion…_

Smithy turned a few pages.

_The cult's main focus is on the Sun God, usually portrayed as a woman, and the lower deities and angels She created in order to lead the chosen ones to Her. Her right-hand gods, Xuchilbara and Lobsel Vith, along with the lower deity Valtiel are also highly worshipped in the cult._

_The cult's central belief is that, by use of a human vessel and sacrifice, God will be reborn to bring about an apocalypse and, afterwards, Paradise…A place where there is no suffering or hatred…The idea is intriguing and alluring... _

Smithy frowned as he continued reading the passage, but soon flipped to a different page. A large, red, circular symbol adorned the page and stared back at him threateningly.

_Halo of the Sun. A symbol widely used in The Order. Its use and meaning varies in the different sects; it could be used for protection, conjuring, or cursing._

Smithy turned to the near back of the book.

_While writing this, I have been asked by Dahlia to perform a "righteous, honorary task." I find no honor in what she disclosed to me, however. Dahlia used her own daughter, Alessa Gillespie, as the sacrifice in the ritual meant to bring about the second-coming of God. She impregnated her own daughter, her own flesh and blood, with the curse of bearing God. Dahlia has put the task of delivering the deity in my hands. I have no choice but to follow through with it._

The psychiatrist couldn't read anymore. He slammed the book closed and threw it into the empty passenger's seat. He leaned his bald head against the seat's headrest and let his hands loosely grip the steering wheel. "What kind of religion…is that…?" he whispered to himself. His tired eyes drifted back to the book's cover, its dirt and filth intimidating. His thoughts turned once more to the visions plaguing James, to the monsters that existed in his patient's nightmares and reality, that mimicked those in the cult's religion.

Smithy snapped back into a straight, upright position and he gripped the wheel tightly as he switched on the ignition. He quickly pulled out of the library's driveway, his tires screeching in protest as his miniature car disappeared down the highway, heading in the direction of Alchemilla Hospital.

-

"Don't try to deny it," said Eddie, his voice low and threatening. "You're one of them."

James backed up against a wall on the far side of the prison. "O-one of who?" he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Don't play dumb!" yelled Eddie, waving the gun in James' direction. "They sent you here!"

"No one sent me here," said James, attempting to put up a calm façade in order to hide his fear.

Eddie shook his gun again at James. "Liar!" he screamed, taking a few bold steps towards James. "You must think I'm pretty stupid, huh? Well I'll show you…" Eddie placed his other hand on his gun, steadying the weapon for accuracy. "I'll kill you just like I killed that _stupid_ dog!"

James felt his heart leap into his chest and he immediately ducked to the ground, barely missing the shot Eddie fired. James hurriedly looked to his left and snatched up his nail-board.

"You weren't supposed to move!" cried Eddie savagely, positioning the gun again for another shot.

James slowly stood up; his eyes locked with Eddie's. "What are you doing?" the blond-haired man asked calmly.

"SHUT UP!" Eddie suddenly fired his gun again as James made another narrow dodge. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

As Eddie opened fire, James swiftly hid behind a make-shift barricade created from a turned-over prison bench. The shooting suddenly ceased and the only audible sound in the room was a quiet clicking noise—Eddie had run out of bullets. James could hear the husky man rummage through his pockets, in search of more bullets. "Come on, James! Don't be a coward! Come and face your death like a friggin' _man_!"

James looked at the plank in his hands, analyzing it closely, before discarding it beside him. A weapon like that would hardly put a scratch on someone like Eddie. It was effective against those monsters, but not against someone with a gun. James reached into his rucksack and withdrew the shotgun. He needed firepower.

James hastily leaped out from behind the barricade and shakily pointed the shotgun's barrel at Eddie.

The portly man sneered. "Finally," he said, lifting his fully-loaded pistol with both hands.

"Don't shoot," warned James, cradling the shotgun pump in his hand anxiously and fingering the trigger uneasily. "I don't want to have to kill you."

Eddie let out a guffaw. "You kill me? _You_?" His raucous laughter dwindled to a slight chuckle and he leered at James. "Not a chance."

As soon as Eddie pulled the trigger, James followed suit, firing off a shotgun round straight into Eddie's face, causing it to explode into bursts of crimson and flesh. The blond-haired man watched in horror as Eddie's body crumpled to the ground, emitting a loud "squish" from the impact. It was at this moment when James realized that he had been shot in the bicep. He held the wound with his palm in an attempt to stop the blood.

"Oh my god…Oh my god…"

James turned his attention to the opposite side of the prison, where Angela sat and watched the horrifying event take place. She was hidden within the shadows, but James was still able to make out her young face, coated with tears. "Oh my god…," Angela whispered once more, her frightened eyes never leaving Eddie's carcass.

James dropped his shotgun gently to the ground and stumbled over to her. "Angela," he began, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kill him, I--" He paused, catching a glint of something held in her hand.

Angela gripped the knife's handle tightly within her hand and she raised its tip to her temple. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic, but it had an underlying hint of terror and anxiety. "I'll do it…," she moaned apathetically. The knife's point lightly scraped her skin. "I can't go on any longer…I'm sorry, Mama…I can't do it anymore…"

"Angela, don't!" yelled James, rushing towards her and reaching out his arm in a helpless attempt to stop her.

Angela plunged the knife's blade deep into her skull. Blood instantly spurted forth from the gash, spattering against her hand and to the floor. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her jaw drooped. Her neck fell limp and rested against the wall behind her. Her body seized and shook as the last drop of life left her body.

James stood still in shock, unable to comprehend what had just taken place. He had just discovered these people, though against all odds. He thought that he had found hope for himself, knowing that there was life within this desolate, demon-ridden town.

He slowly closed the distance between himself and Angela's body. He studied her lifeless, bloody frame, knowing there was no hope here.

Suddenly, James noticed Angela's body changing. Her skin began to shrivel and cling to her bones and took on a brown, deathly shade. Her hair began to fall off in chunks until only a few strands were left. A fleshy skeleton remained.

James bent over, gagging and retching at the sight as a disgusting odor filled his nose. He quickly moved away from Angela's body and bumped into Eddie's in the process. James jumped in fright and turned to face the corpse, but he saw that this one was in the same state as Angela's. Both bodies had completely decomposed in seconds. _It's as if they were already dead…_, thought James grudgingly.

He picked up the shotgun he set down earlier and made his way out of the prison. As he ascended the stairs, the odor of death was replaced with a neutral-scented air. Relief overcame him as he exited the Historical Society, but only for a moment. He quickly regained his alertness and he roamed the misty streets of the town with his shotgun poised and ready to shoot.

He pointlessly meandered about the town, attempting to force the thoughts of Eddie and Angela out of his mind. What had driven such normal-looking people to insanity? James grimaced and looked at his hellish surroundings. This town, full of cretins and demons, could certainly make any sane person go mad. However, James didn't think this was the case.

He recalled the conversation held between Eddie and Angela earlier. Angela had referred to her father, a source of terror that had originated outside of the town. And during the fire fight, Eddie had mentioned the cause of his fear: people from his hometown. The causes for their insanity…They weren't created in this town. But this town…it had something to do with their insanity.

James pondered the thought for a moment before coming up with a conclusion. He remembered Angela saying that her fear, her "daddy," existed in this town and followed her everywhere. It was as if the town heightened Angela's fears and manifested them in this nightmarish world.

_Could it be possible…?_ James asked himself. _Could this town actually bring peoples' fears to life?_

As he wandered throughout the town and pondered its purpose, a familiar sound made its sudden appearance and all thoughts ceased. James stopped in his tracks and listened as the screeching noise drew closer and closer to him, approaching him head-on. James pointed the shotgun barrel into the fog in front of him, his finger stroking the trigger in anticipation. "I won't run from you," stated James in a whisper.

The pyramid-helmed creature emerged from the fog, its crimson helmet shimmering as if it were coated with blood, and it dragged an immense sword behind it. It slowly drifted towards the blond-haired man, its blade shrieking and groaning with every step.

James squinted and aimed his shotgun at the monster's chest. He pulled the trigger, sending a thick bullet straight into the thing's heart. James' eyes widened as he saw the creature still approaching him without so much as a flinch. He fired off another round, and then another, but to no avail.

With each step the creature took towards James, James felt a slight throb in his head. As the thing grew closer, the pain excruciatingly intensified, causing the blond-haired man to drop his shotgun and clutch at his aching head. The world began to spin around him as he fell to his knees, his fingers digging into his skull, attempting to extract the immense torture within his brain.

His weary eyes glanced upward and he watched powerlessly as the demon stood only a foot away from him. The creature and James both stood still, each gazing at the other, neither moving.

When James realized the monster wasn't going to make a move, he smirked weakly. This thing that had been attacking him in his dreams…Now he was face-to-face with it. And the creature chose to do absolutely nothing to him.

James' pain-filled eyes mocked the nightmare and he chuckled softly. "What are you gonna do?" he asked feebly. His thoughts flickered back to the painting in the Historical Society. "What are you gonna do…?" he repeated. "Judge me?"

The creature remained still, as if it were slowly contemplating what James said. After a long moment of silence, its metallic, loud voice boomed from within the helmet: "YES."

James' head was immediately filled with agonizing pain and his vision began to fade. He gasped and curled himself into a slight fetal position, grabbing at his hair and moaning in pain. Through the black splotches in his sight, James could faintly make out the creature's hand stretching towards his face. The man attempted to cry out in protest, but it only resulted in a faint, hoarse groan.

James felt the demon's latex-covered hand press against and cover his face, enveloping him in pitch, black darkness.

-

Smithy Payne pushed through a pair of glass doors, officially entering Alchemilla Hospital. Immediately to his left and behind a counter sat a young secretary, occupied with filing her nails. When she caught sight of Smithy, she quickly put away her pink file and placed her neat hands, folded together, on top of the counter. She gave the psychiatrist a sweet smile and asked, "May I help you, sir?"

"Ah, yes!" he enthusiastically replied as he approached the counter. "I'm in the process of looking for someone and I could use your help."

"Who might you be looking for, sir?" She gave him an inquisitive glance.

Smithy grinned before saying, "A man named Dr. Kaufmann."

The secretary blinked a few times, mulling over the name Smithy had uttered. "Dr. Kaufmann?" she finally asked. "Why would you be looking for him?"

"Well…," began Smithy as he pulled out the worn book from within his overcoat. "He happens to be the author of this book and I just had a few questions I wanted to ask the fellow."

The secretary looked at the book, studying its illegible and tattered cover. When she finished absorbing its appearance, she turned her glance back to Smithy. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't help you. Dr. Kaufmann has been dead for years."

Smithy's exuberant smile instantly diminished at the secretary's words.

"However," she started to say, "there is someone else here who may be able to answer your questions." She stood up from her chair. "Just take a seat and I'll be right back with him. Would you like anything before I run off? Water, perhaps?"

Smiling at the woman, Smithy answered, "Oh, yes. That would be lovely."

The secretary turned to a small water machine and held a paper cup underneath its faucet. When the cup had filled adequately, she handed it over to Smithy. "I'll be right back," she said before disappearing down the hall.

Smithy took a seat in one of the chairs lining the waiting room's wall and slowly sipped his water. He allowed his empty hand to absentmindedly brush against Dr. Kaufmann's book as he surveyed his surroundings.

He observed the walls of the hospital which had an off-white hue. He gazed at the floor and saw that it had not been mopped in what appeared to be months and had probably never been waxed. He inspected the secretary's counter and realized that its white surface was tainted by small splotches of dirt. He turned his eyes to the small, ancient television resting upon a filing cabinet which was supposed to somehow provide entertainment for waiting patients.

Smithy frowned at these sights. This hospital was in an obviously worse condition than Brookhaven and Smithy pitied the structure. "Such a shame…," he muttered to himself.

Footsteps suddenly became audible in the adjacent hallway and Smithy watched as a young man appeared from around a corner. The man had short, blond hair and a pale complexion scattered with freckles. The man had bright green eyes that glistened joyfully as they fell upon Smithy.

The man walked over to where Smithy sat and stretched out his hand. "Hello, sir, my name is Arnie Reyers. I heard that you have some questions for me…" He grinned.

Smithy shook Arnie's hand and grinned in return. "Why, yes I do. But only a few. I don't want to take up much of your valuable time," he said.

Arnie laughed. "Valuable time? I just work in the lab."

Smithy joined in on the laughter for a moment before initiating conversation. "Let's see…," he began, gathering his thoughts. "I recently read a very interesting book written by Dr. Kaufmann and I noticed that some of the…things…within the book are appearing in one of my patient's dreams…I'm a psychiatrist, you see…anyway…"

Arnie leaned forward slightly, his green eyes growing intent. "What kind of things, sir?"

Smithy twiddled his thumbs. "Well…monsters, you see…"

Arnie raised an eyebrow curiously. "Monsters? What book of Kaufmann's did you read?"

The psychiatrist took out the old book once more from his jacket and passed it over to Arnie. The lab worker's eyes grew wide as he looked over the book and flipped through its pages. "This…this is amazing…," he whispered.

"Yes, quite," muttered Smithy unenthusiastically. "The monsters are on pages forty-four and forty-five."

Arnie complied and turned to the appropriate pages. He scanned the pictures of the beast with the helmet as well as the fiend without a face. He flipped back and forth between the pages continuously, as if to convince himself that the pages and images were real. When he was finally convinced, he raised his striking eyes from the pictures. "You say one of your patients has been seeing these creatures?"

"That's correct."

Arnie's lips grew thin as he pondered over a thought. His green eyes, now lacking any brightness or sheen, locked onto Smithy's. He opened his mouth and uttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"Pardon?" asked Smithy. "I don't believe I heard--"

The psychiatrist suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He gazed thoughtlessly at Arnie before his upper body collapsed onto his lap.

Arnie's green eyes became bright once more and he grinned widely as he stared at Smithy's unconscious form…


	5. Chapter 5

**Rating:** T. For violence.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

**A/N:** Oh my god, I had a hard time with this chapter. :/ Smithy was impossibly hard to portray correctly, so I had to do ALOT of rewrites. If you could let me know what you think about the psychiatrist, I'd really appreciate it. :)

* * *

Pyramid Head sat on top of a rusted bar stool, his arm resting nonchalantly against a moldy countertop and his body turned towards the entrance of the Happy Burger. The demon's latex-gloved fists clenched and unclenched slowly as he watched the glass door, waiting for a certain someone to walk through it. While he waited, the creature lazily observed the burger joint's surroundings.

He examined the walls and the paint that flaked off in burnt pieces, revealing oxidized pipes and chains which made up the building's structure in this nightmarish world. He observed the multitudes of Creepers skittering across the bloodied floor, searching for whatever scraps they could find. His gaze turned towards the counter which his arm laid upon. He casually scratched bits of filth and grime from its surface, marveling at how it exposed a clean, untainted sheen. The demon laughed inwardly, however, knowing that this innocent luster would once again be defiled by the town's sickening and rapidly growing refuse. Any form of purity and innocence had no chance at survival in the town of Silent Hill.

Pyramid Head's thoughts then shifted to James Sunderland. He balked at the human's false sense of innocence, at how such feelings simply sugar-coated his true nature. The town beckoned James, yearned for his guilt-ridden heart--contaminated by ignorance and tarnished by supposed virtuousness.

The demon tightened his fists, his anger growing for the senseless man. His thoughts snapped back to the present moment, however, went he heard a faint jingle of the bell that hung limply above the burger joint's entrance. He watched indifferently as Valtiel slinked into the establishment.

"Oh!" exclaimed the faceless cretin, feigning shock at the other creature's appearance. "I didn't know you'd be here!" His face stretched into a sardonic grin.

Pyramid Head stayed still and silent, simply observing Valtiel without the slightest hint of amusement.

Valtiel slithered closer to the larger demon, his neck and shoulders quivering and twitching with excitement. "Did you want something from me, _O' Great One_?" he asked, practically spitting out the last three words as if to get rid of their disgusting taste.

Pyramid Head stood up slowly, his gaze never leaving Valtiel. "YES," he bellowed, his answer reverberating throughout the Happy Burger.

Valtiel was caught off guard as the helmed demon grabbed a fistful of the lesser demon's face. Valtiel attempted to wrench his face out of the other demon's grasp, but Pyramid Head held firm. "What is the meaning of this?!" screeched Valtiel, tugging and scratching at Pyramid Head's arms in protest.

Pyramid Head growled deep within his helmet and responded, "YOU HURT JAMES."

Valtiel ceased struggling. He mulled over Pyramid Head's words for a moment before bursting out in a maniacal fit of laughter. "So I did!" he cackled furiously. "What of it?"

The crimson-helmed beast shook Valtiel angrily. "YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT. YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM." The demon paused before continuing. "YOUR PRESENCE WAS NOT INTENDED TO BE IN THAT OTHER WORLD." He shook Valtiel again for emphasis.

"So what?" replied Valtiel. His face tore apart as he smiled. "I wanted to see this 'James' for myself."

"SO YOU HAVE," said Pyramid Head. "BUT YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO HURT HIM."

Valtiel screeched in amusement. "If he wasn't supposed to get hurt," began Valtiel, "then why did you bring him to this hell?"

Pyramid Head stiffened in fury. "YOU KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION. BUT THAT GIVES YOU NO REASON TO ATTACK HIM."

Laughing, Valtiel retorted, "I couldn't help it. Besides…" The demon licked his lips. "…his blood was _delicious_."

The larger demon's rage suddenly overwhelmed him; he crushed Valtiel's face within his hand and threw the demon into a wall. "HOW DARE YOU!" he roared at the fiend.

After a few moments, Valtiel emerged, unscathed, from the cavern his body had created within the wall. The smile on his face was wider than it had ever been, overflowing with excitement. Valtiel suddenly launched himself at Pyramid Head, proceeding to sink his claws and teeth into long-dead flesh.

Pyramid Head grabbed hold of the back of Valtiel's robe and flung him to the ground. A bluish, transparent liquid dribbled out of the puncture wounds on the greater demon's body. "YOU CANNOT INJURE ME," stated Pyramid Head, grabbing hold of his sword and pointing its tip at Valtiel.

Still smiling, Valtiel retorted, "And the same thing goes for me!"

Both demons clashed. Valtiel's claws slashed Pyramid Head's apron and the flesh underneath as Pyramid Head's sword arced through Valtiel's leg, tearing the limb from its body. Valtiel howled in pain and astonishment as he watched the appendage drop to the floor. He didn't see the second swipe of Pyramid Head's blade as it sliced through his midsection.

Valtiel's body crumpled to the tiled floor of the Happy Burger. The smaller demon's breath was slow and labored. A transparent liquid oozed from its wounds.

As Pyramid Head approached Valtiel's tattered body, the faceless monster let out an angry hiss. Pyramid Head said nothing at this and instead nudged Valtiel's detached limbs with the tip of his boot. The demon remarked, "YOU WILL BE FINE."

Valtiel remained silent for a moment before agreeing, "….Yes."

Pyramid Head walked out of the establishment, leaving the other demon to suffer a few hours of agony until his body regenerated. The larger demon smiled inwardly and uttered, "A FITTING PUNISHMENT."

-

James' eyes slowly fluttered open, greeted by the florescent lights of the hospital room. He clenched his fists and realized that his arms were still tied down to the bed as well as his legs. He groaned softly in agitation. "They still think I'm going to hurt myself…," he muttered.

"Yes, we still do."

James turned his gaze beside him and saw Dr. Wilkins sitting patiently at his bedside. The doctor smiled gently at James. "Hey there, sleepy head."

James weakly smiled back at the medic. "Have you been waiting for me to wake up?"

"Not for very long," replied the doctor. "I was going to wake you up in a bit for your psychiatrist appointment, but…there seems to be some complications."

James frowned and asked, "Complications?"

Dr. Wilkins folded his hands in his lap and leaned back against his chair. "Yep. Dr. Payne hasn't shown up for work."

"Did something happen to him?" said James worriedly.

The doctor shrugged. "Dunno. But knowing Smithy, he probably just got sick and forgot to call in." He laughed.

"If you say so," said James, smiling and reassured.

"So," said Wilkins, reaching out to pat James lightly on his patient's uninjured shoulder, "you won't be having an appointment…"

James raised an eyebrow. "Do you have something else in store for me?"

"Indeed I do," replied Dr. Wilkins, his smile spreading from ear-to-ear. "You've got yourself a visitor!"

James' jaw dropped. "A…a visitor?" he stuttered, unsure if he heard Wilkins correctly.

Wilkins patted James' unhurt shoulder once more before standing up. "Right-o, kiddo. Just wait here and I'll bring him right in."

James watched the doctor depart from the room before turning his eyes toward the ceiling. _A visitor...,_ he pondered once more. _Who would visit me? Do I even know anyone from this area…?_

He stared at the ceiling tiles, awaiting the return of Dr. Wilkins and his surprise visitor. After the course of several minutes, James heard a knock at his door followed by a voice he hadn't heard in years.

"Hey, son."

James' eyes widened in shock as his father entered the room.

James' father, Frank Sunderland, was a tall, fit man. His hair had turned almost completely white and age was clearly drawn into his features. His face was solid and stern, firm wrinkle lines encompassing his mouth and spreading across his forehead. Under the tough façade, however, lied Frank's caring and loving emotions, which were exhibited when he smiled at James.

"D-dad?" asked James as his father took a seat beside him. "What are you doing here?"

Frank laughed and placed his hand on top of his son's hair, ruffling it. "I came to visit ya, of course!"

James shook his head slightly, protesting the tousling of his hair as if he were a child. His father laughed again at this and withdrew his hand back into his lap. "How did you know where I was?" asked James.

"Well, for one, these doctors here gave me a holler to come up here right away and see you. And I knew how to get here, thanks to some of the tenants in my apartment. A few of them used to live here and they were able to give me some directions." Frank smiled. "It was quite a drive, though, getting here from South Ashfield."

"Dad…," began James. "You didn't have to go out of your way to see me."

"James, I wanted to. I wanted to see my little boy." He grinned as James grimaced at the last word. "I'd drive a thousand miles just to see you."

A smile made its way onto James' lips once more. "…Thanks, Dad," he whispered.

"No problem, son." Frank gave James a pat on his head. "Now let's talk about what happened to get you into this joint."

"Well…," James frowned. "To be honest, I don't remember."

"You mean like that…what's it called…amnesia?"

"Yeah. But…I think what happened…it had something to do with Mary."

"Mary? That dead wife of yours?"

James flinched at the words. "Yes, Dad. Mary."

"But she's been dead now for three years, son. How could she have anything to do with this?"

"Her picture…it's the last thing I remember." He didn't say anything about the letter she had written him from his dreams.

"Huh," said Frank, shrugging his shoulders and shifting to a slightly different topic. "These wounds come along with what happened?" he asked, motioning towards James bloody bandages.

James gulped. He couldn't tell his father about the creatures he had seen, the creatures that the doctors deemed as non-existent. And he couldn't tell Frank what the doctors believed, either. He resorted to lies. "Yeah, Dad. Can't remember what happened."

Frank frowned. "Why are you all tied up?"

James' heart sank. "I…well…," he stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Well? Spit it out, son." Frank furrowed his brows in agitation.

James only gawked at his father, afraid to tell the truth according to James and afraid to tell the truth according to the doctors. His mouth hung open in uncertainty.

"Visiting time's over, Mr. Sunderland."

James relaxed once more, relieved at Dr. Wilkin's entrance. The doctor had just saved James a mortifying explanation.

Frank Sunderland gave his son a puzzled look as he stood up from the chair, wondering what his son was hiding from him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sunderland, you can see your son tomorrow," assured Dr. Wilkins as he led the man out of the room. Before he exited, however, Frank gave one last confused gaze towards James and said softly, "Good bye, son."

James stayed silent as he watched his father walk through the egress. When the man was well out of hearing distance, James quietly whispered, "I wish I could tell you, Dad…I wish I could…"

-

When lunch time arrived, Mary entered James' hospital room, a tray of foodstuffs cradled in her hands. She walked towards James' bedside and set the tray on a side table. She placed her empty, slender hands on her lap and took a seat in the chair next to James' bed. Her face was set in a different expression from that of the previous day; her eyes were gentle and filled with sorrow, her mouth curled into a puzzled grimace, and her face looked extremely tired.

Her exhausted, brown eyes gazed into James' blue ones and James noticed the puffy, red circles encompassing her eyes, indicating a night without sleep and full of tears. They stared at each other in silence, analyzing the other in search of an answer hidden within their features.

Mary was the first to break the silence. Her eyebrows crinkled together in sadness and her voice was soft and low when she spoke to James. "Why did you hit me?"

James felt a knot gather in his throat and he attempted to swallow it away so he could speak. "I…I'm sorry, Miss Mary," he said.

"Just answer my question, Mr. Sunderland," said Mary, her back stiffening and anger becoming visible on her face.

James hesitated for a second before replying, "I…I went insane, Miss Smith."

Mary raised a brow. "Insane?" she asked, a look of disbelief and disgust on her face. "How could you go insane? You were perfectly fine earlier that day."

James nodded. "I know…But…" He leaned his head back into his pillow and sighed, whispering, "This is going to sound ridiculous…"

With her brow still raised, Mary asked, "What?"

"I…I saw something…After my psychiatrist appointment….It was…" He gulped, afraid to utter what would follow. "…a monster."

A thick silence suffocated the room and its inhabitants. James watched Mary, his blue eyes wide and fearful of what her response may be. _Please, believe me, Mary…_, he thought desperately. _I trust you…Please believe me…_

Mary's lips pursed and her gaze softened as she pondered what James had said. "A…monster?" she whispered.

"Yes…" James turned his head away from Mary and stared at a wall. "I told you it was going to sound ridiculous."

"Was it a hallucination or something?" she asked.

The blond-haired man shook his head. "That's just what the doctors think. They all think I'm crazy." He sighed again and closed his eyes. "But I know whatever that thing was…it was definitely real." James focused his gaze back on Mary. "I know it was. I couldn't have hurt myself like this on my own."

Mary frowned, remembering how she saw James the other day—coated all over with blood and his clothes torn in multiple places. She, too, knew that self-mutilation was an impossible theory. But saying that a monster did it…She wasn't so sure of that.

She looked intently at James, her brown eyes full of something akin to understanding. "Mr. Sunderland," she said, "you don't seem like the kind of person who would lie. But I…I just don't know what to believe…"

James frowned, a hurt expression evident on his face. "Miss Mary…"

"Whatever actually happened…it doesn't matter." She smiled gently and she placed her hand tenderly on his arm. "I know that when you hit me…it was an accident. I forgive you, James."

A smile made its way across James' lips and his eyes brightened. "Miss Mary…" he said again.

She shushed him with a kind glance and grabbed hold of a cup of soup from the food tray. "Would you like some food, Mr. Sunderland?" she asked, stirring the soup's contents with a small spoon.

James grinned and nodded.

The nurse chuckled softly. "All right, then. Open your mouth," she commanded, placing a spoonful of soup into her patient's mouth as he complied.

James' heart welled with happiness and his stomach filled with warmth as the nurse fed him. For the next hour, James ate contentedly and Mary smiled and talked to him all the while, telling him about herself, her job, and her childhood. She gave James a few minutes in between spoonfuls to allow him to respond and tell her about himself. The mood in the hospital room was cheerful and uplifting; the exact opposite of yesterday's mood.

When it was time for Mary to return to work and tend to other patients, James wished her a good day and he watched her as she left the room. He turned his eyes toward the ceiling and he nuzzled the back of his head against the pillow, a smile on his lips. His heart fluttered, floated, and swam with glee inside his ribcage. His stomach was bombarded with thousands of invisible butterflies.

He chuckled to himself. He hadn't felt this happy in a long, long time.

With the pillow gently cradling his blond head of hair, James slowly drifted off to sleep.

For the next two days, James made a startling realization that whenever he went to sleep he didn't travel to the other world. He thought it strange for a moment, but immediately afterward counted it as a blessing. Visions of nightmares and demons no longer haunted his dreams and he could rest in the blissful, eternal blackness.

Mary also paid him visits more often, taking time away from her job to take care of him and chat with him. She seemed a lot happier, now; her lips were always curved into a joyful grin and her eyes sparkled and glittered in his presence.

A few times, while Mary was "taking a break from work" to visit James, she was caught by Dr. Wilkins. The doctor would poke his head into room 205, look at James and Mary, and then smile briefly. He'd watch them for a few moments before saying playfully, "Oh, Miss Maaaary!" The young nurse would respond by jumping and quickly turning to face the doctor, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing to a deep reddish hue, and, subsequently, she'd hurry off back to the nurses' station.

When Mary wasn't caught, however, she and James would talk for hours; sometimes their discussions were fun and meaningless and other times they were long and serious. But each conversation was enjoyable to James and he'd always await the next one.

James was finding that he greatly enjoyed the nurse's presence. Mary kept him company when he was lonely and she made his stay at Brookhaven Hospital tolerable. Every time Mary would enter his room, James' spirits would lift and, even though he was tied down, he would feel free and liberated. Mary's presence gave him a new sense of life.

On the third day, after another night of perfect sleep, James awakened to an empty room, void of any person. He kept his eyes focused on the entrance to his room, awaiting the arrival of Dr. Wilkins or perhaps another visit from Mary. After around twenty minutes, the door creaked open and both Dr. Wilkins and Mary entered the room.

James lit up immediately at the sight of the two of them and he greeted the pair with a cheery, "Good morning!"

Neither Dr. Wilkins nor Mary responded; both of their faces were stern and pale, evident of some kind of fright. They walked over to the side of James' bed and took a seat. Dr. Wilkins was the first to speak.

"Mr. Sunderland, we have bad news," he stated ominously.

James furrowed his brows questioningly. "What is it?" he asked, afraid to find out the answer.

Dr. Wilkins ran his hand through his long, brown hair and sighed. "Smithy hasn't shown up for work, today. He's been gone for a long time and it's not like him to not inform us."

"What are you implying?" asked James, his body shaking slightly, fearing the worst.

Mary confirmed what he was thinking. "Mr. Sunderland… Dr. Payne is missing. We're afraid something's happened to him."

James stomach churned and he felt extremely nauseated. It took an immense amount of will to keep the contents of his stomach from coming up. "What…do you think happened to him?"

Dr. Wilkins shrugged somberly and Mary looked at James empathetically. "We're not sure," she said, "but we've filed a missing persons report to the police and they're already looking for him." Her eyes welled slightly with tears and she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe them away.

"Mary…," whispered James, his eyes full of sorrow. "We're going to find him. I promise."

Both Mary and Dr. Wilkins gave James a confusing glance, seeming to wonder how the man could be so sure.

After Mary and Dr. Wilkins left, James concentrated on thoughts of Smithy. A sinking, dreadful feeling encased James' heart, and he knew that something bad had happened to the psychiatrist.

The blond-haired man closed his eyes, worrying about the fate of Smithy. After a few moments, James drifted off to sleep…

-

"E-excuse me? Could someone…anyone let me out of here?"

Smithy Payne inquired incessantly at the creatures in the room with him, wondering if the beasts understood a word of what he was saying. The psychiatrist squirmed uneasily and strained at the chains that pinned him to a chair. He gawked at the metallic links and purposely jingled them. "This is quite a strange nightmare," he muttered to himself. "I don't think even I could interpret this when I wake up."

His eyes soaked in his surroundings; the room was a large, dark, and dank chamber with walls the color of rust and blood. He watched the creatures wandering around the room and stared curiously at them in disbelief of their existence. Every so-often, one of the faceless cretins would turn its eye-less gaze towards the psychiatrist, threatening that he would become their meal if he made one wrong move.

Smithy chuckled and shook his head, marveling at the monstrosities his imagination had supposedly conjured.

"I would really like to wake up and get out of here, right about now," he said to himself, humming a monotonous tune and turning his gaze towards the cobwebbed and dilapidated ceiling.

"No can do, Doc."

Smithy stopped humming and he lowered his gaze to see a monster approaching him. The thing had a humanoid body, coated in rotted flesh and covered with a tattered shirt and jeans. The creature's hands were deformed; its fingers had melded together to form a dagger-like shape, and a few stray fingers poked grotesquely from its appendage. Its face, however, proved most disturbing. In place of where its eyes should have been were black, circular caverns, as if its eyes had been plucked out and the sockets had been cauterized. It wore a permanent, revolting grin, filled with dozens of razor-sharp teeth.

"You…you can speak?" asked Smithy, his eyes wide and his expression bewildered. "This nightmare keeps getting stranger and stranger!"

The thing gazed blankly at Smithy and said, "Sorry to burst your bubble, Doc, but this ain't no nightmare." It laughed, its voice dry and cracking. "Ain't no wakin' up from this place."

Smithy's eyebrows furrowed. "Then what is this place, if it is not, in fact, a nightmare? How am I supposed to get out of here?"

"You don't," stated the creature firmly. "We've got orders not to let you outta here."

"We…?"

The demon grinned vacantly at the psychiatrist and only responded with a chuckle. It raised its monstrous head and turned it towards the room's entrance, expecting the answer to Smithy's question to walk right in. Its face remained blank as it watched a man step through the doorway.

Smithy immediately recognized Arnie Reyers. "Oh! Arnie! You're here, too?"

"Good day, Dr. Payne," greeted Arnie, clearly ignoring Smithy's inquiry, a solemn smile on his lips. As the man took a place beside the monster, Smithy noticed something different about Arnie. Adorning his body were red, circular tattoos: Halos of the Sun. The markings crawled along the skin of his hands, the skin hidden under his clothes, and even his face and neck.

Arnie noticed Smithy's observing gaze and grinned. "For protection," he said, responding to Smithy's unspoken question. "So I won't become like Jimmy, here." He motioned to the deformed monster beside him and the thing continued grinning in response. "But…," he continued, "you should already know that, right, Dr. Payne?"

Smithy flinched as Arnie leaned threateningly close, his face only a few inches away from Smithy's. "I…wanted to thank you…," Arnie began, his breath creating a warm fog on the psychiatrist's glasses, "…for returning Kaufmann's book back to us. We've been looking for it everywhere. And here, a little old man finds it in a library." He chuckled ominously to himself.

Smithy held his tongue. This wasn't the same Arnie he had met at Alchemilla Hospital. There were no remnants of his cheery disposition, only a look of pure evil and sinister intent. This man was dangerous and Smithy would need to watch his words, whether this was a dream or not. After a moment of hesitation, Smithy asked, "Why is that book so important to you, Arnie?"

Arnie drew back into an erect position. "You don't know that? Didn't you read it?" When Smithy gave him a vacant glance, Arnie said, "That book contains such a vast amount of power…Dr. Kaufmann…he wrote down the sacred words of God, straight from the mouth of the high priestess Dahlia. This book…" Arnie caressed the bulging, rectangular shape hidden under his shirt. "We can't let anyone outside of our kind get hold of this sacred knowledge. They might…hinder our plans."

Jimmy laughed hoarsely, his swollen tongue lapping at his immobile lips. "We can't have that, right, boss?"

Smithy shook his bald head, causing the chains encasing him to clank and clatter noisily. "But I don't know anything," he stated. "I'm an old psychiatrist. What on Earth could I do to hinder your…erm…plans?"

Arnie smiled. "You opened this book, Dr. Smithy. Your eyes have seen our world. You already know too much."

Smithy shook his head more vigorously, almost causing his glasses to fall off. He exclaimed, "I swear! I don't know anything! Not one thing!"

Arnie's green eyes suddenly flashed, signaling that he had just remembered something important. "Dr. Smithy," he said, "why did you take interest in this book?"

"I thought I already told you. It was my patient, you see. He was seeing monsters from that book."

Arnie's eyes opened wide in shock and his face contorted into a look of pure rage. "Valtiel and the Great One…," he whispered, recalling the monsters Smithy had shown him. He grasped Smithy's thick throat in his hand and began to constrict the psychiatrist. "What is the name of your patient?!" screamed Arnie as he strangled Smithy.

Smithy sputtered and choked, froth dripping out of the corners of his mouth and he uttered in broken words, "Con…fi…den…tial…"

Arnie's other fist crashed into Smithy's right eye, shattering his glasses and blinding the psychiatrist. Smithy let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"No more games, unless you want to die!" yelled Arnie. Jimmy rubbed his "hands" together eagerly at this.

Smithy felt the crotch of his pants grow warm and wet as pain and terror overcame him. Reality struck him. He actually felt pain. This place was real. These monsters were real. "J-James…Sunder…land," he gasped, completely in shock of the situation.

Arnie let go of Smithy's throat, causing the man to wheeze and cough. Arnie took a step back and his green eyes shimmered, deep in thought. "James Sunderland…" He repeated the name, making a record of it in his mind. "Look out for this man," he uttered, his eyes taking on a faraway gaze, making it seem as if he was speaking to no one, yet everyone. The monsters perked their heads towards their master and acknowledged his command.

Arnie pivoted on his heels and started towards the exit. "Jimmy," he called over his shoulder. "Do what you want with this man. I have no use for him."

The chamber door slammed shut.

Jimmy looked at Smithy. Its tongue licked at its lips anxiously. "How 'bout we have some fun, Doc?"

Smithy was in no nightmare.

He was in hell.

-

James opened his eyes. After three nights of restful sleep, he had returned once more to the other world.

He immediately scanned his surroundings, confirming that no beasts lurked nearby. He looked down into his hands and saw that they cradled the shotgun from his last visit. He smiled, glad that he didn't have to search for a weapon this time.

The blond-haired man began to walk down the desolate street he appeared on. He had no clue as to why he traveled this particular night, but he was sure that he was here for some obscure purpose.

Suddenly, something crinkled underneath James' shoe. The man looked down and lifted his foot, revealing a crumpled piece of paper. He bent down to retrieve it and he carefully unfolded it. In dark red letters were three words: "CHURCH UP AHEAD." James grimaced as he studied the ink, wondering if it was blood. He shook off the thought and focused on the message.

"A…church?" he asked himself, his eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. Was this piece of parchment…directing him to a church?

James lifted his eyes from the paper and squinted, searching for something that would indicate a church was nearby. Sure enough, he spotted a dingy cross floating above the town's rooftops. He looked at the paper, at the steeple, then back at the paper, verifying the connection they shared. He placed the note carefully into his pocket and he began to head towards the direction of the church. Maybe the purpose for this night's travelling was there.

When he arrived at the establishment, he marveled at how tall the edifice truly was up close. Its steeple seemed to touch the clouds and even its double doors were gargantuan. James took a deep breath and gripped one of the massive door handles. With an immense amount of strength, he wrenched open the door, anticipating what lay in wait beyond it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rating:** T. For violence.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

**A/N:** Phew! It's finally done! I was barely able to finish this due to all my crazy exams! My last one is tomorrow, and then the only thing I'll have to worry about are a couple finals. :) Easy-peasy. Anyway, this chapter happens to be unedited, due to my editor being unable to review it. So, I'll just post this version and when she's available again and reviews it, I'll repost this with the correct version. :) Hopefully there aren't too many errors in here. And also, please feel free to review; constructive criticism and/or support really helps me to keep going with this story. Enjoy reading!

* * *

Nothing. That was all James saw. Just an empty church lobby.

The blond-haired man entered the massive room, cradling his shotgun in anticipation, and he slowly closed the massive doors behind him. His blue eyes observed the dozens of pews lining the room, each of them covered in thick layers of dust, as if they hadn't been sat in for years. He marveled at the incredibly high ceiling, dotted with broken woodwork that allowed splinters of sunlight to pierce into the church, illuminating plentiful strings of cobwebs and wandering roaches. He turned his gaze towards the front of the church, where a lectern stood, alone and prominent, in the center. James made his way down the carpeted aisle towards the piece of furniture. When he approached the podium, a shimmering item on top of it caught his attention.

James stepped closer to the podium and saw a small, silver key sparkling up at him from underneath a stack of papers. He gently brushed aside the papers and picked the item up, twirling it between his fingers and inspecting the incredible sheen emanating from it. He pocketed the trinket, wondering if it would lead him to his purpose for being here.

James looked to the right of the lectern and saw a door. He approached it and grasped its handle, gently pushing it open.

Beyond the door was a stream of multiple hallways and doors. James pondered all of his options and decided to walk down the path ahead of him. As James traveled down the hallway, he began to notice changes in his surroundings. More hallways seemed to branch out of nowhere, creating what appeared to be a labyrinth, and the walls became dilapidated and rusted over.

Suddenly, James heard a noise further down the path. The blond-haired man clicked his pocket flashlight on and he proceeded down the path cautiously and alertly.

The noises grew louder as he approached its source and he realized that they were the growls and grunts of a large creature. James stiffened and quickly cocked his shotgun.

The noises stopped. James stood still, sweat dripping from his forehead.

James' eyes widened as a thick, bulging creature lunged out of the darkness. Its body was composed of fat, swollen tissue and drool poured threateningly from its mouth. The thing screeched at James before launching itself at the man.

James quickly pulled the trigger two times, planting huge bullets into its flesh. The creature's attack was cut short and the beast collapsed to the ground with a sickening "splat."

James warily stepped towards the creature and he prodded it with the tip of his shotgun. The creature responded by shrieking hoarsely and swinging its arms and legs pitifully. James ended its suffering with a stomp to the head.

James continued down the pitch black hallway, leaving the dead thing behind him. He quickly came into view of a large door, engraved with strange circular symbols and runes.

"What in the world…?" he asked distantly, caressing the etched symbols with his fingertips.

He reached towards the knob and jiggled it, but the door would not open. He jammed his hand into his pocket and withdrew the key, placing it gently into the keyhole and slowly turning it. A "click" was heard. James left the key inside the lock and slowly opened the engraved door.

James timidly stepped into the darkness. A humungous red circle came into his line of sight and as he walked further into the room, something else became illuminated, as well: Dr. Smithy Payne.

James gasped aloud at the sight of the psychiatrist. The pudgy man was slumped over in a chair, chains wrapped around his chest and bulging stomach. Shards of glass rested on his tattered clothes and blood trickled from his face. "M-Mr. Smithy?" he asked. "Is…that you?"

Smithy suddenly lifted his head, revealing his eyes: one oozing with blood and the other wide with shock. The psychiatrist's mouth trembled and he studied James for a few seconds. "Oh my! Mr. Sunderland, how did you get here?" he inquired, raising a brow in question.

Before James could reply, Smithy shook his head and said, "Never mind. James, you must get out of here. Right this moment."

James stood still, utterly confused. He gawked at the psychiatrist's presence in this nightmarish world. "What are you doing here…?" he asked faintly, in shock.

"Forget about that, James!" asserted Smithy. "Just hurry up and get out of here before--"

The door behind James slammed shut.

James quickly spun around and grabbed at the doorknob, twisting and tugging it, but it was hopelessly locked from the outside.

"Oh my…oh my…," uttered Smithy repeatedly. "We're in quite the trouble, now…"

James let go of the knob and held his shotgun firmly, waving its tip around him in an arch, searching for any signs of danger.

Danger quickly made itself known.

"Well, well! We've got a new playmate!"

A creature with hollowed out eyes and a wide grin emerged from the shadows. It rubbed its bladed hands together eagerly and stepped towards James.

James quickly pulled the trigger without thought and nicked the creature's abdomen.

The creature paused in its tracks. Still smiling, it quietly said, "You shouldn'ta done that."

James barely was able to dodge as the creature struck at him with its blade. The blond-haired man fired another shot and blasted off one of the thing's arms. It let out a howl of pain and swiftly spun around, swinging its arm and striking James across the face with the flat side of its hand.

James hit the ground and his body skidded into a wall. He struggled to regain a standing position, but was quickly knocked back down by the demon.

"You ain't goin' nowhere," chuckled the demon as it gazed at James' crumpled state. It gave the man a swift kick to the stomach and blood spurted from James' mouth.

"Mr. Sunderland!" cried Smithy as he strained against the chains holding him captive.

The demon whirled around towards the psychiatrist and yelled, "Shut up, old man!"

Smithy's eyebrows furrowed and he let out a revolted gasp. "How dare you call me an old man!"

The demon lifted its bladed hand and waved it threateningly at Smithy. "Hey! I told you to shut up! So shut up!"

Suddenly, a gunshot was heard. The demon turned back towards James and saw the tip of the man's shotgun emanating smoke. "Where the heck're you aimin'?" the demon asked in agitation, kicking the gun out of James' hand.

James only grinned in reply.

Rusted chains swiftly wrapped around a demonic neck and immediately tightened, cutting off the demon's air supply. The monster gasped and grasped at the links, struggling to pull them from its throat.

"I'm deeply sorry for doing this, Mr. Jimmy," said Smithy, pulling the chains taut around the thing's neck.

James achieved a standing position after some effort and chuckled softly. "Smithy, why are you apologizing to that thing?" he asked, raising a brow at the psychiatrist.

"Oh, I can't help it, James," Smithy replied, continuing to strangle the creature. "I do feel a little sorry for him."

James sighed and shook his head. He raised his shotgun shakily and wiped some blood from his lips with the sleeve of his shoulder. "Smithy, you might want to back up. I'm going to finish him before he breaks free."

Smithy complied, shuffling slightly to the side and out of James' line of fire.

The blond-haired man let loose a bullet. Jimmy collapsed to the floor, motionless and with blood oozing from his chest.

The psychiatrist released the chains that had restrained the monster and they clattered noisily as they hit the ground. He brushed the palms of his hands against his blood-stained vest and shook them vigorously, as if to rid them of the deed he had committed. "Oh my, he's dead," he said flatly, unsure of how to feel.

"Yeah," responded James as he filled his shotgun with a few more bullets. "That's one less nightmare bent on killing us."

Smithy looked at James curiously. "James," he began, "do you…know this place?"

James lowered the shotgun back to his side and his blue eyes locked with Smithy's. "Yes," he said. "Welcome to my dreams."

"Your…dreams…?" whispered Smithy, memories of their previous session flooding his mind.

A loud sound erupted from the other side of the room; the engraved door slammed open and someone entered the room.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your little reunion," a voice said. A "click" was heard from the darkness and the voice added, "But I'm going to have to cut it short."

A gunshot was fired, whizzing only inches past James' face.

The blond-haired man reacted instantly; he jerked his shotgun to eye level and fired into the shadows. A few seconds of silence passed before faint chuckling was heard.

"You missed," sneered the voice.

James creased his eyebrows in fury and yelled at the voice, "Show yourself!"

More laughter was heard from the dark before a figure stepped forth. Blond hair shimmered in the light of James' flashlight and a freckled face smiled. Brilliant green eyes glistened maliciously. "You must be James Sunderland, correct?" asked Arnie, his grin spreading from ear-to-ear.

James cocked his shotgun, a clear warning. "How do you know my name?" he asked stiffly, cautiously.

Smithy stepped forward, the chain links held in his hands once more. His chubby visage was grim as his gaze focused on Arnie. "I told him," the psychiatrist admitted.

James gaped at Smithy, shocked for an instant. His eyes fell upon the shrink's bloodied eye and the shock dissipated; Smithy must have had James' name forced out of him. James' stomach churned at the realization.

Arnie beamed, his teeth glinting nastily at the pair of men before him. The pistol cradled in his left hand was raised, aiming straight at the two. Arnie glanced at James and said, "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Sunderland, that we couldn't meet properly. But, under certain circumstances…" His finger played eagerly with the trigger. "…you must die."

James immediately fired at Arnie, planting a bullet into the man's thigh before he had a chance to shoot. Arnie's legs buckled and he crumpled to the floor with a scream, clutching at his thigh. Smithy quickly grabbed James by the sleeve and pulled him to the room's exit. Arnie let out a furious growl and shot aimlessly at Smithy and James as they sped out of the chamber.

James and the psychiatrist dashed through the maze of doors and hallways, James holding his stomach and Smithy still tugging him by the sleeve. "Come on!" yelled Smithy fervently. "We must get out of here _this instant_! That man is very persistent!"

Smithy's words rang true as the men heard muffled shuffling and panting only yards behind them. They quickened their pace in response.

As they raced down the hallway, Smithy and James grabbed every doorknob in their reach to see if it was an exit. Each door was either locked or broken, inaccessible to the men.

Smithy cursed as he tested yet another door and found it to be locked. He pounded on it with his fist angrily and yelled, "These confounded entrances! Let me out! Let me out, I say!"

James jerked Smithy back on course and hissed, "We don't have time for this! We have to keep moving!"

The psychiatrist nodded in silent agreement and they continued down the hallway, testing each and every door with a quick flick of their wrists.

Suddenly, James noticed a small glimmer of light from up ahead. "I think that's the exit!" he exclaimed, pointing towards the light.

Smithy's eyebrows raised and a smile crossed his lips. "Thank heavens!"

They quickly neared the slightly-opened door and James wrenched it open, flinging himself into a flood of brilliant white light. His heart pounded in his chest excitedly; they were finally out of the labyrinth! However, his relief and happiness were short lived.

A gunshot echoed from within the labyrinth. The sound of a bullet colliding with flesh was heard immediately afterwards.

James quickly turned towards the sound and paused, his eyes widening immensely at what he saw.

Smithy stumbled slightly and then stood still, his hand clutching at his chest. He removed his hand and stared at the enormous red stain on its underside. A perplexed look crossed his features as he gawked at the blood, his blood.

James looked at the psychiatrist in disbelief, watching as blood dribbled endlessly from the hole in Smithy's chest and as it trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Smithy coughed weakly, causing more blood to spurt from between his lips and he turned his gaze towards James, his eyes pleading and confused.

"Oh my…," the psychiatrist uttered through crimson lips, "I…believe I have been shot…"

Smithy's only good eye took on a faraway glance, his gaze seeing through James and into eternal nothingness. His pudgy body fell to the floor and remained motionless.

James, paralyzed with astonishment and fear, stared in shock at Smithy's body. He soon heard the killer's shuffling footsteps and he turned his eyes towards the man, a mix of terror and rage visible within the blue orbs.

Arnie grinned viciously at James as he slowly approached, dragging his limp and bloody leg behind him. The freckled man stopped a foot away from Smithy's carcass and he aimed his pistol directly at James.

Suddenly, a black haze floated across James' vision; the masses expanded and clouded over his sight and James felt as if he was being pulled out of this existence and into another.

He heard a distant "goodbye, Mr. Sunderland" before everything became black.

* * *

Slender legs, coated by thin stockings, hung loosely over the arm of a beige sofa. A slim body clad in a nurse uniform rested on the comforting couch. Chestnut locks drooped over the opposite sofa arm. Brown, feminine eyes stared towards the ceiling, unblinking and vacant.

Mary's attention peaked when Dr. Wilkins entered the nurses' lounge, causing her to discard her distant thoughts. She slowly rose into a sitting position and stretched her arms towards the sky. "Hello, Dr. Wilkins," she said, yawning a little.

"Hey, Mary," replied Dr. Wilkins, grinning at the nurse as he set his clipboard on a countertop. He proceeded to take a seat beside her on the couch and he clasped his hands behind his head.

Mary stared at him questioningly. "Do you…need something, Dr. Wilkins?"

Dr. Wilkins shook his head, brown strands of hair shivering slightly from the movement. "Nope," he said, smiling. "Just came here to chit-chat."

"Chit-chat?" Mary continued to look at him incredulously. The doctor had never made small talk since he first arrived at the hospital; he said he never had time for it and it was only for idle minds. "Why…do you want to chit-chat?" she asked, wondering if something was wrong with her superior.

Dr. Wilkins let out an exasperated sigh. "All right, I'll just tell you what I want." He turned his head towards Mary and locked eyes with her. "I need to know what's going on between you and Mr. Sunderland."

Mary suddenly sputtered as a knot grew in her throat. Her cheeks flushed to a dark red and she stuttered on her words. "M-Mr. S-S-Sunderland and I? W-why n-n-nothing! There's n-n-nothing going on between us!" She chuckled nervously.

Dr. Wilkins grinned and set his hand on her shoulder. "You can't fool me, Mary. I know there's gotta be something between you two," he said, laughing slightly. When Mary kept silent, the doctor decided to elaborate. "Look, Mary. You take time out of your day to go visit him and talk about who-knows-what and sometimes you're with him for hours. I know there's something going on; the relationship between you and him isn't one of a nurse and her patient." He grinned expectantly at the nurse.

Mary's mouth quivered slightly in hesitation before she sighed in defeat. "You've got me, doctor," she said, a sheepish smile crossing her rosy lips.

Dr. Wilkins leaned his head into the back of the sofa and beamed proudly. "I knew it!" he exclaimed.

"Dr. Wilkins…I really like him, you see," she said, her eyes avoiding his in embarrassment. "But…," she continued, "…I'm not sure if he…if Mr. Sunderland feels the same…"

The doctor patted her shoulder softly. "Mary, I'm a guy. And I know everything there is about our kind. I know what we do when we like a lady and how we react when we're around her. Trust me, Mary," he said patting her shoulder again to assure her, "Mr. Sunderland's got a thing for you."

Mary blushed furiously again and she quickly turned her head towards the floor to hide her scarlet cheeks.

Dr. Wilkins laughed at this and rose from the couch, stretching his back. He grabbed his clipboard from the counter and began to exit the lounge. "I'm gonna pay a little visit to your boyfriend, all right? Why don't you come along and say hi?" He made a beckoning motion with his head before leaving.

Mary continued to sit on the couch, her red cheeks starting to fade to a pale pink color. Her thoughts began to wander as she thought about what Dr. Wilkins had said; she wondered if his words were true, if James did in fact have feelings for her. She squirmed in her seat slightly at the simple thought and her heart began to flutter eagerly within her chest. Her thoughts then shifted to the doctor; why was he suddenly so interested in her personal life? Her brows knit together as she pondered the thought. She had never seen Dr. Wilkins act like such a gossip.

* * *

James woke with a start. His eyes snapped open and he cried out a name: "Smithy!" His breath came in short, sporadic bursts and when he realized that he was back at Brookhaven Hospital his breathing gradually returned to normal. He placed his palm against his forehead and closed his eyes. He mused over the dead psychiatrist's name, thinking how a simple name could once have felt so alive but now contained no life whatsoever. James repeated Smithy's name softly, tasting death and decay as it passed across his tongue. Smithy: a word that was, but is no longer.

The blond-haired man heard the faint pattering of footsteps approaching his room and he looked up in time to see Dr. Wilkins and Mary enter. Both doctor and nurse smiled at James in greeting, but James didn't return the gesture. Their smiles died as they studied James' somber face.

"Mr. Sunderland, are you all right?" asked Mary, a worried tone evident in her soft voice.

James shook his head and stared at them impassively. "I couldn't save him," he muttered under his breath.

Dr. Wilkins and Mary neared his bedside, both wearing confused expressions. "Save who?" asked Dr. Wilkins, annoyed and incomprehensive at the blond-haired man's words.

James looked at the doctor, his blue eyes stern and forbidding, yet dull and lifeless at the same time. "You know who," he stated. "He won't be coming back. Not ever."

Dr. Wilkins scowled. "Who won't be coming back?" he asked irately.

When James didn't reply, Mary moved closer to the doctor and placed her small hands on his arm. Her brown eyes looked at him, full of concern and inquiry. "Dr. Wilkins…does he mean?"

The doctor shook her touch away and turned on her fiercely, barking, "Of course he doesn't mean that! How could he have possibly known what happened to Smithy?"

Mary shrank back in fear from her superior and quietly apologized.

"I know what happened to him," said James firmly.

Dr. Wilkin's attention snapped back to James. "How could you have known?" he reiterated. "You haven't even left this bed!"

"I would tell you," said James, "but you choose not to believe me."

The doctor quickly wiped his sleeve against his forehead and he sighed in agitation. "Don't tell me this has something to do with what happened a few days ago—when you saw that 'thing' of yours and injured yourself."

James' eyes narrowed viciously, but he stayed silent.

Dr. Wilkins leaned over the arm rest of James' bed and hissed, "I don't care. Just tell me how you're so confident about this."

"You won't believe me."

Dr. Wilkins stepped back from the bad. He gazed silently at James for a moment before pivoting on his heels and trotting out of the room. Mary covered her mouth with her hands and looked back and forth between her patient and the exit. She said nothing and followed her superior, pausing at the egress to glance one more time at James.

Dr. Wilkins walked briskly down the hallway, not noticing Mary's footsteps tagging along behind him. The doctor ran a hand through his long brown hair and he huffed angrily. He had to get out of that room. He had to get away from James, from those eyes of his; eyes that had quiet persistence and held unknown knowledge; eyes that mocked the doctor with a dark, strange understanding of that which was unknown to Wilkins; eyes that had been acquainted with death.

* * *

A light knock sounded on the outside of James' door. A feminine voice followed the knock announcing, "Mr. Sunderland, you have a visitor!"

James leaned his head further into his pillow and said, "Let him in."

Frank Sunderland entered room 205 and took a seat beside James' bed. The father looked over his son and saw that James was still confined to his bed by force and his deep injuries had barely healed.

Frank's eyes met James' and silence hovered over them for a few moments.

"What do you want, Dad?" asked James impatiently. He turned his blond head away from his father; he didn't want to talk, but he knew he had to. He wished Frank would hurry up, say what he needed to say, and leave James alone afterwards.

Frank swallowed hesitantly before stating, "The doctors told me what happened to you. How you got those injuries."

James lay in silence, waiting for his father to continue.

Frank's hands rubbed together as he thought about what to say. "James, they said you did all that," he pointed to the bleeding bandages, "to yourself."

James replied with a quiet, "Yeah. And?"

"Son…is…is it true? I can't see you ever harming yourself like that…My son, of all people…Please, tell me it's not true."

James tilted his head and looked solemnly at Frank. "It's not."

Frank let out a relieved sigh and ran a hand through his white hair. "Thank god…thank god…," he whispered under his breath. He quickly gained composure when his relief died and he stared James in the eye, a question burning deep within the father's mind. "Son," he began, "if you didn't harm yourself…then how did…that…?" Frank left the question hanging in mid-air, afraid that saying it fully would bring about an undesired answer.

The blond-haired son said nothing. Something blocked his throat, prevented him from speaking. He knew his father and he knew what his father would think if James told the truth. He knew that if he told Frank about the faceless monster, his father would lose all hope in James, thinking him a lost cause and mentally insane. James would lose his only connection to his past and his memories. James couldn't let that happen.

James inhaled deeply and gazed at his father with soft, apologetic blue eyes. "Dad…I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

Frank's body stiffened. The pupils of his eyes widened and his thin lips condensed to form a straight line. His aged face became sullen and his wrinkles stood out prominently, making him appear twice as old. "What…what do you mean, James?" Frank asked slowly, sounding out every syllable to convey each word clearly to his son.

"I mean I can't tell you."

Frank's ancient hands gripped the arm of James' bed until his knuckles turned a stark white. "You…you…" Frank groped for the right words through the anger and confusion attacking his mind. "Why…can't you…tell me?" he uttered stiffly, trying to keep his temper under control.

"I just can't tell you, Dad." James remained firm on his position, knowing that this way was best for his father. The truth would hurt more than not knowing it.

Frank's temper boiled over. "Are you saying that you—my son—are refusing to tell me how you got those deep cuts?! How you almost bled to death?! How you almost _died_?!" Frank was in a fit of rage; his wrinkled face turned a shade of light purplish-read and a vein began to pulse visibly under the skin of his right temple. After the father finished yelling at his son, he glared at James and let out angry, exhausted huffs of air.

James closed his eyes tightly and turned his face towards the ceiling. "Yes," he replied simply. "I'm sorry, Dad."

The gray-haired man stood up swiftly. He glared at James for a few moments, fury pulsing through his veins and confusion clouding his thoughts. He could say no more to his uncommunicative son. The father exited the room without giving a last glance at James.

James opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling tiles hanging above him. He hated hurting his father like this; he loved Frank with all his heart and this was something his father didn't deserve. Frank was always there for James in his time of need, giving the blond-haired man advice and help whenever it was required and even when it wasn't even desired. However, Frank couldn't help James in this particular situation. There was nothing Frank could do to halt the realistic nightmares or the demon-like monsters. His father, if he knew, would only make matters worse; he would abandon his son, proclaim him dead to the disease of the mind, and leave him to rot in a mental hospital. He would be unable to look at James the same way; the loving, caring glance of a father would become the awkward, disturbed glance of a stranger.

James shut his eyes once more, blocking out the white world around him. He knew he did the right thing, yet he had to keep repeating the thought—he had to convince himself that it was truly the right decision.

Slowly, James' mind made the transition from the conscious to the subconscious. The worried thoughts vanished into nothingness as he drifted off to sleep…


	7. Chapter 7

**Rating:** T. For violence.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

**A/N:** Oh. My. God. You have no idea how hard this chapter was to write. I had to keep reading it over and over again, tweaking it over and over again, and being unsure of how else to fix it. I'm still not very happy with it, but hopefully it's still decent enough to read. :c I'd really, _really_ appreciate any constructive criticism you all have to offer; if there's anything I could have done better, please let me know! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it. : )

* * *

A pale hand, coated with red circular symbols, rested upon a rusted-over window sill. Fingers softly tapped upon the oxidized surface and occasionally scratched away some of the orange-red flakes. Arnie's piercing green eyes stared, unblinking, through the smudged glass of the window. He gazed at the desolate street below him, scattered with rundown cars and broken bits of glass. Arnie smirked when a stray Lying Figure wandered and stumbled down the road, searching for its next meal.

"What a wonderful world…," whispered Arnie, a smile crossing his lips. He faintly touched the window, attempting to touch the creature beyond its glass. "Such beautiful beings…"

He shifted his attention away from the window as his mind wandered onto a different topic. The freckled man recalled the events from earlier that day; he recalled the blond-haired man in the green jacket.

"James Sunderland…," he muttered under his breath. Arnie staggered away from the window, clutching at his injured thigh, and he slowly paced about the small, otherworld office room. As he paced the length of the room, his mind focused on this strange, interesting man.

"James Sunderland…," he uttered once more, remembering the man's bright blue eyes—how he had looked at Arnie in fury after the shrink's death. Arnie grinned widely at this memory; such anger enticed him and brought forth animalistic urges. Chills and shivers of excitement gripped his spine for a split second before he suppressed them. His grin transitioned into a subtle smile and he reminded himself that he could not afford to lose himself in this world.

Arnie pulled a dusty office chair from under the room's desk and he took a seat, placing his elbows upon the desk and resting his chin atop his folded hands. He began wondering how this man, this James Sunderland, entered this world. He was not a chosen one of The Order nor did he have access to the link between this world and that other one.

The freckled man suddenly remembered Dr. Kaufmann's book and his hand instinctively rested upon the novel strapped to his belly. Arnie's green eyes narrowed as he was reminded of the pictures within that book, the pictures of the Great One and of Valtiel. The psychiatrist had said James saw these two monsters.

Arnie suddenly threw himself into an upright position as an abrupt thought permeated his mind. "No, that's impossible!" he shouted at nothing, shaking his head to rid himself of the insane notion. He ran a hand through his blond hair and rested his elbows back on the table and pondered this idea further. The Great One and Valtiel…Could one of them have possibly brought James into this world?

Arnie shook his head again, knowing that this idea sounded crazy. Why would one of the Gods bring a human into this world? But…the idea was possible. Valtiel was strictly devoted to the service of God, so he wouldn't have gone against Her wishes. But the Great One…he was an exception to God's rule. He had no fear in his heart, no fear of God. _He_ would be willing to break God's rules without the fear of repercussions. However, that question made itself known once more: why would a god bring a man to this world?

Arnie closed his eyes and travelled the stygian depths of his mind, searching for an answer. James Sunderland…he must hold some sort of importance to the Great One; Arnie was definitely sure of that. But what made a mortal being important to a deity of God's creation?

Arnie's green eyes flashed open.

What if he was more than a mere human?

Arnie gritted his teeth at the thought; it was a possibility, albeit an unpleasant one. If this man was, in fact, more than what he seemed…he would most certainly be of value to the Great One.

"This man…," growled Arnie, his hands clenching into fists. "…I do not know what kind of power he wields, but…"

The freckled man stood up and limped to the room's coat hanger. He retrieved his brown jacket and felt inside its deep pockets for his pistol, grinning when his flesh touched the cold metal. With the gun at hand, Arnie exited the room, his mind focused on one, sole conclusion:

"…he is a threat to our Paradise."

* * *

Valtiel lay motionless on the cold, hard tile of the Happy Burger. His breathing was slow yet harsh, as if each exhale were a sigh of anger. For the past day, Valtiel had been restricted to this exact spot, unable to move due to his dismembered leg and separated lower half. During this endless day, while his limbs slowly began to reattach themselves, Valtiel stewed over his humiliation, over the Great One that caused it.

Valtiel clenched his fists and he growled deep in his throat. "How dare he do this to me…How dare he reduce me to…to _this_…"

The demon slammed a fist into the tiled floor, leaving a huge dent in its wake. A curse escaped his torn lips and a scowl crossed his face. He was sick of the Great One. He was sick of feeling like the lesser demon when compared to the helmet-wearing beast. Although both demons were blessed with the same amount of power, Valtiel was closer to God and, thus, should be the greater of the two. However, the Great One's distance from God…It made the demon different. It was as if God had no control over him. The demon could wander and kill as he pleased, even kill Her children that roamed this town. He was a creation of God, yet he was completely out of Her reach. She could do nothing to stop him.

Valtiel grimaced at the thought.

When Valtiel's leg and lower half were fully attached to his body once more, the demon eased himself into a standing position. His neck and shoulders twitched spastically as he stumbled towards the diner's glass door.

"Damn that Great One," he hissed as he leaned against the exit, cursing the helmed being for incapacitating him.

Valtiel rested on the glass door for a few more seconds, slowly gaining control over his limbs. "Curse that beast…," he uttered under his breath. Suddenly, an idea sparked within the demon's mind. A malicious grin spread across his lips. He forced open the Happy Burger's door, immersing himself in Silent Hill's otherworldly fog. His smile grew wider as he began walking down an abandoned street.

"Thinks he can push _me_ around, huh?" he chuckled. "I'll teach him to mess with me…"

As the demon meandered along the street, he let out hysterical cackles and shrieks. The thought in his head threw him over the edge with glee. The Great One no longer seemed to be a formidable foe, a creature that was beyond control, a creature with infinite power. The demon had an obsession, what Valtiel called the Great One's little "pet." This obsession could break the demon once and for all and throw him out of God's graces.

He knew the Great One's weakness.

* * *

Water.

That was the first thing James heard upon his awakening. He could hear small waves sloshing about and falling over each other pathetically; the sounds seemed to be emanating all around him.

James groaned slightly as he drifted out of sleep. A cold, wet sensation against his face and body took him fully out of sleep and James opened his eyes. With his hands, he pushed himself up into a kneeling position and looked around at his surroundings. His blue eyes first noticed the surface which woke him: the wet wood of a dock. He eased himself into a standing position and saw the waters of Toluca Lake surrounding him. A small rowboat tethered to the dock made a soft "thunk" every so-often as the waves bumped it against the pier.

James immediately reached into his backpack and withdrew his shotgun, his only protection in this world. He checked to see if it was loaded and he half-smiled when he saw that it was.

A sudden shout caused the blond-haired man to jump and he quickly turned around, his shotgun aiming into the fog.

"James? James! There you are!"

Maria's voice. James lowered the gun to his side.

The woman appeared from the fog and ran towards him, her shoes pattering loudly against the wooden deck. She stopped a few feet away from James and leaned over, her hands resting on her knees and her chest rising and falling rapidly from exhaustion.

"Maria, are you okay?" asked James, reaching a hand out to touch her slender shoulder.

Maria lifted her head and revealed a smile. "Yeah." She stood up fully and pointed off into the fog behind her. "You said you were searching for your wife, right? Why don't we check here?"

James raised an eyebrow. "Where's…here?"

Maria laughed and took hold of James' hand, tugging him into the depths of the fog. James felt the wooden dock under his feet transition into a gravelly ground. Suddenly, the fog cleared some and a huge edifice came into view. James' gaped at the sight as Maria pulled him towards the entrance.

"This is the Lakeview. A hotel. I figured you and your wife must've stayed here last time. Is that right?" Maria tilted her head to the side slightly and grinned at him.

James nodded. "I…I think so. Yes." A sudden image of Mary—of her smiling face, her peaceful eyes, her beautiful brown hair cascading down her delicate shoulders as she lay in an unfamiliar, yet familiar bed…the bed of a hotel—popped into his head. He nodded more firmly. "Yes, I remember us staying here."

Maria's smile grew wider, like a child who had just pleased her parents, and she turned to look at the hotel. "It's gorgeous, isn't it? Even in this…this place…" She absentmindedly spread her arms about her. "…It just doesn't seem as…despoiled…as everything else."

James hinted at a smile, but was unable to really smile even if he tried. He couldn't see this "beauty" that Maria obviously saw. The building was certainly magnificent…yet it held a sinister element within its walls, some dark, foreboding secret that was waiting deep within the edifice's bowels, waiting for someone foolish enough to discover it and witness its horrors.

Something churned within James' stomach and he let out an audible gulp.

Maria turned towards him, her blonde hair brushing against her cheeks. "You all right?" she asked him, her green eyes flickering at him curiously.

James grinned weakly and gripped his shotgun with both hands, still keeping its nozzle towards the ground. "Let's just get in there and get it over with."

With a great heave, James forced open the Lakeview's doors and the light from outside filled some of the lobby inside. A strange structure stood in the center of the lobby, but James paid it no mind. As the duo stepped inside, Maria began to close the door behind them. "You better turn on that flashlight, James," she suggested. James complied and Maria proceeded to shut the door, shutting out monsters that might be lurking around outside.

James and Maria explored the hotel's entrance, marveling at its beautiful architecture and its exquisite, yet dingy carpeting. James closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards. Yes, he was starting to remember this place. He imagined a brightness exuding from the broken overhead chandeliers and he imagined ritzy tourists mingling about with each other. He felt a soft touch on his arm and he saw Mary's soft, smiling face gazing up at him. "_What a beautiful place…_," she whispered, resting her brunette head against his arm.

"James, did you hear something?"

The blond-haired man's eyes snapped open and he looked at Maria. Her face was lifted towards the floors above them and a concerned expression gripped her features.

"Hear what?" asked James as he looked in her direction.

Maria shrugged uneasily. "I don't know…but I know I heard some-"

Something on the stairway suddenly creaked, causing James and Maria to jump. James quickly aimed his shotgun at the top of the stairs, ready to shoot, but he paused, his face contorting into a look of shock. A little blonde head poking over the railing vanished a second after James' flashlight illuminated it.

"Did you see that?" asked James in awe.

"Y-yes!" replied Maria. She pointed at the stairway and uttered, "That looked…I swear that was a little girl up there!" She hurried to James' side and grabbed at his jacket sleeve. "Come on! Let's go after her!" she said.

James allowed himself to be led up the stairway as his mind wandered. _What could a little girl be doing here?_ he asked himself.

When they reached the second floor of the hotel, the pair searched for the familiar blonde head. Maria looked down the hallway to the left and saw the tail of a denim dress retreat behind a corner. "There!" she cried, rushing off into the dark hall before James could react.

Maria quickly turned the corner before James did and saw a small girl run into a nearby room, slamming the door behind her. James finally turned the corner and saw Maria standing impatiently outside the door. "She's here," she said assuredly. "Here, you open it," she said, backing away from the doorway. James grasped the doorknob and jerked the door open.

An empty room greeted him.

"Are you sure you saw her come in here?" asked James as he stepped inside the room, searching it for any signs of the girl.

Maria followed behind him, holding her arms across her chest, and nodded. "Yeah, she ran right in. That's weird…"

When James and Maria began to search behind furniture and dressers, the door behind them slammed shut. The sound of pattering footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway, away from them.

James and Maria quickly rushed out of the room and looked to the right of the hallway, where the footsteps had travelled, but it was empty. Maria smirked and whispered, "She's playing games with us."

They continued down the hallway and stopped when they heard the familiar pattering ascending the stairway to the next floor. James and Maria quickly turned on their heels and ran back to the stairway, the boards creaking under their feet with each step. The girl came into sight once more and they could barely make out the shocked and angered expression on her pale face before she dashed into another room.

James grumbled under his breath a quiet "Oh no you don't" and chased after her, swinging open the door she had just closed. He almost screamed at what he saw.

A creature stood still in the center of the room, its humanoid body composed in a horrifying way. Protruding from the beast's top half were a pair of feetless legs, knees bent so that the legs appeared to be outreaching arms. It reminded James of something a bored, violent toddler might concoct out of a pair of Barbie doll toys; ripping their fragile legs from their bodies and mashing them together at the hips.

When James' flashlight lit up the thing, it reacted instantly. Its body shook and trembled and it quickly hobbled towards James. Without thinking, James lifted his shotgun and fired two rounds into the thing's center, dropping it to the ground instantly. James popped a couple bullets back into the chamber and grinned. This shooting thing was starting to get a little easier.

"What was in there, James?" asked Maria, attempting to peer into the dim room.

James pushed her back gently and shook his head. "Nothing, Maria. Now where did she go?"

A faint "ding" sound was heard further down an adjacent hallway. Maria perked up at the sound. "The elevator!" she exclaimed before rushing off in its direction. James quickly followed her as she turned down one hallway and then another. Just as James was beginning to get dizzy from the maze, Maria halted in front of an elevator. Both of them looked at the numbers above the elevator and saw them stop on the basement floor. Maria immediately pressed the "down" button and the elevator slowly obliged. Its golden gates slid away and the duo entered it in silence, James' shotgun cradled against his chest in anticipation. Butterflies danced quietly in his stomach as the elevator descended into the Lakeview's basement and they quickly disappeared when the elevator lurched to a halt. A soft "ding" was heard once more as the gate opened, ushering them into the dark, cold basement.

Silence echoed all around the pair and James softly interrupted the silence. "Hello? Is anyone down here?" he asked as he warily explored the basement.

Maria stood near the elevator, her arms still crossed over her chest as if she were cold. "James, I don't like it down here," she whispered. "It gives me the creeps."

James ignored her and continued further into the cellar, his soft voice questioning in the darkness. Suddenly, his flashlight illuminated something in the distance. He slowly approached the thing and saw it was a bulky figure facing a wall. It was dressed in a brown jacket, something a professional would wear, and its bald head glimmered in James' light. Also glimmering in James' light were what appeared to be spectacles.

James' eyebrows furrowed as his eyes widened. His mouth slowly formed a shocked "O" as he uttered, "….Smithy?"

The figure swiftly turned around and James cried out in horror. "No! No! NO!" he shrieked as he aimed his gun shakily at the thing in front of him, the thing that looked so much like his dead psychiatrist. "_What the hell is this?_"

The Smithy-creature observed James with a horribly blank visage. Its face was completely featureless, like all the other creatures in Silent Hill, devoid of a mouth, nose, and eyes, but it was dotted all over with bumps and tumors, making it appear bloated. Its spectacles were melded into the sides of its head and they glittered maliciously at James. "Oh my?" questioned the creature as it began stumbling toward the blond-haired man. "Oh my! Oh _my_!"

James was frozen in fear of the approaching monster, unable to comprehend its existence. "You're dead! You're _dead_!" he repeated over and over, as if that simple fact would suddenly cause the monster to vanish.

The monster continued to approach James and he could smell the deathly odor emanating from the thing's pus-filled tumors. "Oh my?" asked the Smithy-creature once more as it reached out for James with its pudgy, malformed hands.

Suddenly, the creature stopped and blood began gushing out from its bloated cranium. It attempted to ask its question one more time before falling into a pool of its own blood. Maria stood behind where the creature had fallen, a thick lead pipe held within her hands. Her green eyes flashed wildly as she cried, "What are you _doing_, James? She led us to a dead end! We have to get out of here, _now_!"

James stared at Maria blankly, unsure of what just happened. "That…that was…"

"Forget whatever that was and let's _get out of here_!" She punched James in the arm out of frustration and tried to push him back towards the elevator without success. "_James_!" she yelled.

Slowly, James began to return out of his shock and he felt Maria feebly trying to move him. He grabbed hold of her wrist and they started running towards the elevator. Both of them gasped as more bulky figures appeared in their path, effectively blocking the path to the elevator. Their spectacles glinted menacingly and a chorus of "oh my"s started to build up.

James cursed loudly and quickly turned to the right, searching for an alternative exit. "There!" cried Maria, pointing towards a doorway. "Stairs!"

The Smithy-creatures' questions felt as if they were getting louder and the duo heard their thick footfalls approaching fast. Before the creatures could get hold of their next meal, their prey rushed through a stairwell door and slammed it quickly behind them.

Both James and Maria pushed their backs against the door, attempting to keep the things at bay and to shut out their questions. They held the door firmly and after what felt like an eternity, the "oh my"s fading into silence and the creatures lost interest in the duo. James and Maria looked at each other, unsmiling. "Have you ever seen those creatures before?" asked James suddenly.

Maria turned her gaze towards him and slowly shook her head. "Never."

James said nothing in reply.

They stood against the door for a few more moments, allowing their breath to return and their hearts to slow. Maria was the first to move. She held out her slender hand to James. "Come on, James, we have to go after that little girl. It's dangerous here. She might get hurt."

James let out an exasperated laugh. _After what she's put us through, she _deserves_ to get hurt_, he thought angrily.

"What's that laugh for?" asked Maria, her brows knitting together.

James shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

With that, they ascended the dank stairway. When they reached the third floor, the sound of music was heard somewhere nearby. Maria opened the door to the floor and they followed the melodious, yet amateurish sound of a piano being played. Maria pointed to the closed door which contained the source of the music and she nodded her head silently in affirmation. James neared the door and when he pushed it open, the piano music abruptly ceased. He stepped into the room and saw a young girl, somewhere around the age of eight, standing defiantly by the instrument, her face twisted into a pout of anger.

Both James and Maria stepped cautiously into the room, silently observing the strange little girl. "Who are you?" asked James softly, stepping closer to the child.

The girl shrank back from James and retreated behind her piano. "Go away, you meanie!" she yelled.

A puzzled crease formed on James' forehead and he watched as Maria approached the child. "Will you please tell us your name?" she cooed softly in a voice James had never heard before, a motherly kind of voice.

The girl said nothing for a few seconds and then poked her head from behind the piano. "My name's Laura," she said simply. "Who are you?"

Maria smiled. "Laura…that's a pretty name…My name is Maria." She motioned toward James and continued, "And this is-"

"I _know_ who that is," the girl said crossly.

James raised a brow. "You do? But I've never seen you before, Laura…"

The girl pretended to ignore James and she stepped closer to Maria, studying the woman's face intently. Recognition appeared on her face and the girl smiled. "Wow! You look so much like her!" she exclaimed.

Maria returned the smile, though it contained a hint of confusion. "Who do I look like?"

"Like Mary!" cried the little girl. "You look _so_ much like her!"

James instantly started at this and he rushed towards Laura. "You know Mary?" he asked anxiously.

Laura's smiling face crinkled into a grimace and she wrinkled her nose angrily. "I'm not gonna talk to you, you meanie!" she stated.

"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say to someone," said Maria, her hand resting on the girl's shoulder.

"But he _is_ a meanie! Mary says he's not, but I know he is!" She pointed an accusing finger at James. "Meanie!"

"How do you know Mary?" asked James firmly.

Laura looked at him angrily for a while before murmuring, "We were in the hospital together."

James' brows continued to knit furiously together. "The…hospital? I don't remember her saying anything about a girl named Laura…"

"But what are you doing here?" asked Maria, a look of worry on her face.

Laura puffed out her chest and replied, "I'm looking for Mary, of course!"

James continued to appear baffled and he uttered quietly, "What makes you think she's here?"

"I know she's here!" exclaimed Laura excitedly as she stamped her foot on the ground. "I know, I know, I _know_!"

"But…where is she?"

Laura shrugged. "She said something about your 'special place.' Blegh. It sounds icky. But wherever that is, it's here. I know it is."

James thought deeply of Laura's words and his blue eyes took on a faraway look. Maria softly shook his shoulder. "Do you know where you and…Mary stayed? The room you stayed in?" she asked quietly.

Slowly, James nodded his head. "312…312…," he murmured, placing a hand on his forehead. "Mary…"

Maria rested her hand on the blond-haired man's arm and tugged at it softly. "Then let's check there, okay?" Her green eyes turned towards Laura and she smiled. "Thank you for helping us, Laura. Would you like to come with us?"

The little girl shook her head emphatically, her blonde ponytail swishing back and forth wildly. "No! I'm not going anywhere with that meanie!"

Maria said nothing and then smiled softly. "All right, then…" She and James opened the door once more and on their way out, Laura said, "Good bye, nice lady," and then grumbled, "Good bye, meanie."

James turned around to wave at the little girl, but when he did he saw that she was no longer there. He lowered his hand and shut the door quietly behind him without a word.

"So, room 312, right?" asked Maria, her eyes studying James worriedly.

James nodded and began to lead the way, his footsteps quick and eager. 312…That meant their room, their "special place," was on this floor…Mary was _here_. _Actually here_. James began to run and Maria did her best to keep up with him as he rushed down hallways and turned corners sharply.

"Here," he said suddenly, stopping in front of a closed door marked "312." "This…this is our room…," he whispered, his fingers stroking the entrance softly. "Mary…she's…" His hand reached down to touch the gold knob and he grasped it firmly. But it wouldn't turn. It was locked.

"…What?" James looked dumbfounded and he continued to jiggle the doorknob. "…It…it won't open…," he muttered helplessly.

Maria tapped James on the shoulder and urged him away from the door. "There are keys to the rooms downstairs, in the lobby. All the keys were there when I looked." She patted James' shoulder and began to walk towards the stairway. "Come on, let's go get it."

As Maria pulled James from the door, James looked at it almost apologetically. "Mary…," he whispered under his breath before turning away from it.

The duo quickly descended the stairs and the key room was instantly spotted by the hotel's entrance. Maria climbed over the key-keeper's desk, scattering old papers onto the floor and she looked at James with an "oh, silly me" grin before looking through the multitude of keys.

"301…322…343…Wow, all of these are really out of order—Hey! Here it is!" Maria took a key off its loop and held it up for James to see. The tag dangling from the key read "312" and a huge smile crossed James' lips.

Maria laughed and proudly dangled the trinket above her head. "Now we can go back and unlock that room!" Her green eyes turned to the floor and she smiled, but somehow that smile had a touch of an unknown sadness. "Now you can find your wife…"

James paid no heed to Maria's words; he was solely focused on the key held between her graceful fingers, the fingers so similar to his wife's…

"Toss it here," he said eagerly, holding out his hand in preparation to catch it.

Maria chuckled and shook her blonde head of hair. "I wouldn't want to risk poking your eye out, James." Her striking green eyes locked with James' and for a split second, James thought he was seeing his wife's—Mary's—eyes.

Maria began to climb over the counter once more, her skirt lifting so that some of her undergarment showed, and she scattered more papers onto the floor. Along with the papers, a small, silver counter bell fell onto the floor and let out a loud "ding."

James and Maria immediately froze at the sound. An intense feeling of dread gripped them and their hearts leaped into their throats. The "ding" sound continued to resonate from the fallen bell and as its volume increased, so did the pair's fear. They stared at each other, speechless, the noise invading their very souls.

Suddenly, James reached out his hand and yelled, "The key! Toss me the key _now_!"

Maria appeared not to be listening; her eyes were watching the entrance to the Lakeview hotel, immense terror evident in their green depths. Her lips quivered slightly, as if she were about to scream at any moment.

Frustrated and deathly frightened, James ran towards Maria and snatched the key out of her hand. At that moment, however, the doors to the hotel flew open and they slammed against the walls with a loud "crack." James' eyes widened and he couldn't take them off the figure that was drawing near.

"Y…y….y…..you…..," whispered James as the familiar crimson helmet came into view.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rating:** T. For violence.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.

**A/N:** My shortest chapter ever. I apologize for the incredibly long wait, but now it's here! Hopefully it was worth the wait. This chapter gave me a little bit of a hard time and since it's been a while since I've written, my writing skills are a little rusty; please pardon any mistakes I've made. As always, review and tell me what you thought of the chapter or tell me what you think will happen next. ;) Enjoy~

* * *

James and Maria watched in horror as the helmed beast approached. The creature's helmet glittered like freshly drawn blood and the blade dragging along behind it appeared to be caked in crimson. With each step the beast took, its blade let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Ice cold daggers pricked at James' spine and his legs felt cemented to the floor. As he gazed upon the creature, all became silent except for the soft ringing in his ears. The man could feel an overwhelming sense of bloodlust within the being, contaminating the atmosphere with an immense sense of hatred. James felt his throat constricting as the ill emotion choked the breath out of him. However, the beast's wrath was not directed towards him. The red pyramid was instead focused on the woman beside him.

James turned to face Maria and saw a face composed of utter terror. Her green eyes flashed wildly and her mouth opened to its fullest extent, her teeth white pearls amidst ominous black surroundings. When the ringing sound began to fade away, James realized she was screaming.

His eyes returned once more to the demonic figure and he felt his stomach churn anxiously. With each scrape of the beast's blade, a thousand screams pierced the air, crying out warnings of pain, agony, torture and death. James tried to object to the voices, but the only sounds able to escape his dry, choked throat were muffled gasps. His hand groped for Maria's and he made an urgent tugging motion as his body forced him into action. "_Run_," he breathed.

Maria desperately held onto him as they rushed towards the stairway, their feet tripping over each other in their sudden haste. Her nails dug into his skin and she let out frightened whimpers as she continually looked over her shoulder at the pyramid-wielding fiend. "_LEAVE US ALONE!_" she shrieked at the thing, hoping her words would perform a miracle and stop the beast's pursuit.

James yanked Maria's arm in agitation. "Shut up!" he yelled furiously without so much as a glance in her direction. The beast's footsteps hastened, causing the blond man to curse and quicken his pace. "You're provoking it!"

Suddenly, James felt his arm jerk sharply as Maria cried out in pain. Her hand slipped from his and he stumbled forward, his body off balance from the motion. He turned to see the woman crumpled on the ground, her hands clutching at her injured ankle. "James!" Her wide eyes gazed at him helplessly and frightened tears streamed down her face. She reached an outstretched hand towards him and made a feeble attempt to crawl her way across the floor. When a latex-coated hand firmly grabbed her blonde head, Maria let out pitiful, frantic sobs. "Help…me…."

The strong fingers twisted in her hair and the creature placed its boot on the small of her back. Maria's hands automatically went to the gloved hands in an attempt to fight the beast off. The creature rammed its boot into her spine and wrenched her head upwards, triggering a shrill screech from the woman, before snapping her vertebrae and ripping her head from her shoulders. Her body slumped to the floor, blood spurting profusely from the wound, and the being held Maria's head high, as if wielding some horrific prize.

James placed a trembling hand over his mouth and began to retch at the sight. He staggered over to the stairway and clutched at the railing as his stomach emptied onto the plush, red carpet of the Lakeview Hotel. He lifted his head and watched the creature casually toss aside Maria's head.

_It's coming for me next_, James thought as he struggled to ascend the stairs, his body expelling the last bit of vomit for the first few steps. The cold metal within his palm pulsated abruptly, frenetically as James climbed. The demon's footsteps boomed against the wooden stairs, but the blond-haired man dared not to look back. A crazed, tingling sensation overtook his hand and he slightly unfurled his fingers to gaze upon the key.

_312…Mary…_

James' heart skipped a beat. The man clutched the key close to his chest and slowly turned to look at the helmed creature pursuing him. _It's not after me_, James realized upon looking at the creature, its crimson pyramid tilted upward, focused on something further up the stairway. The key gave one more brief, insistent pulse within his hand. _It's after Mary._

"Mary!" James shouted at the top of his lungs as his legs propelled him up the stairway at a near inhuman speed.

The beast behind him let out a vicious bellow in response; James knew he was in deep trouble.

_I'm coming for you, Mary!_ The man frantically pushed forward in his endeavor, forcing his body to its limit as he neared the second stairway. Just behind him, the creature made a furious lunge that just missed the man, sending the demon headfirst into the hotel's walls. _I won't let it hurt you, Mary!_ his thoughts screamed.

A bright light suddenly shrouded his mind and, for an instant, he was back home at his wife's bedside. Soft, auburn hair twirled between his fingers and Mary's gentle hand rested on his cheek. "_James…_," her sweet voice chimed. Her lips weakly formed a frown and her eyebrows creased with worry. "_It's okay, Mary_." James lightly caressed her hand and leaned forward to give the woman a kiss. As he pulled back, he saw tears building in the corners of her eyes. Chapped lips began to quiver and a perfect face faded, distorting into a pale, shriveled mess. "_You bastard_," she hissed. Her nails dug fiercely into the side of his face and he reeled back in pain, accidentally ripping out a clump of his wife's hair in the process. "_You don't love me, you _bastard_!_" she shrieked, flinging a pillow at his face followed by the next nearest item: a glass of water. The glass shattered painfully against his skin and he retreated to the room's doorway. The man looked fearfully at the deformed being before him, water dripping down his pain-stricken face as the creature across the room collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion, sound asleep.

"…I won't let anything else hurt you, Mary."

After reaching the top of the third flight of stairs, he paused and turned to face the monster shotgun-barrel-first. Without hesitation, he fired two shots into the helmed beast, hitting its chest and right arm. _Gotcha_, James remarked, but when he saw no reaction from the thing—not even the slightest flinch—he quickly retreated into the innards of third floor, just in the nick of time; the massive blade of the Great Knife sliced through the now-vacant air and split a large chunk of the hotel's wall.

James felt his hand burning as the key inside it pulsed madly, innately knowing its twin lock lay just ahead. He gripped the trinket tightly, not caring that the edges tore into his skin. This key was his hope; his desperation for the wife he had and the life he had, before the sickness, death, and pain. As he saw the familiar door approach, joy bubbled up within him and he knew—he _knew _without a doubt—that as soon as he turned the lock, he would see his beautiful Mary once more. She would turn to smile at him and ask him to take a seat on the bed with her as they watched the sun set on Toluca Lake. They would hold each other, kiss each other, and make passionate love as they did during their vacation to Silent Hill. Things would be normal. Perfect. And James knew that when he opened door 312, they would stay that way forever.

Tears welled at the corner of his eyes and he almost cried out with elation as his fingers neared the golden doorknob. _So close…_

The creature's footfalls crashed against the floors like thunder, shattering James' hope like fragile glass. _He's getting closer, I won't make it_, James' panic pressed urgently. He could see the beast's shadow overwhelming him and the door that lay just beyond, but he couldn't give up; eternal happiness laid just a hairsbreadth away.

Of course, in this dark realm known as Silent Hill, there is no such thing as happiness and James was stripped of it just before he could obtain it. Fire seized the man's right calf; his skin and muscle opened to allow a flood of blood to escape. His useless leg buckled underneath him, sending him into the Lakeview's carpeted floors. His fingers lightly caressed room 312's gold knob before they lay motionless by his face. Blood poured endlessly from his wound and the world became a dizzy blur.

He sensed the helmed monster hovering over him, observing what the bite of its blade had done to the man's leg. Satisfied with its work, the thing bent down towards James. The man could feel the smooth latex pry apart his clenched fingers and the key to room 312 gave out one last pulse of despair before the demon tugged it from his grasp.

"Mary…," he whispered feebly as the beast walked away with the life he once had and could never have again.

* * *

"_Hey! Sunderland! Time for a check-up, whaddya say?"_

"_Hush, doctor! He's sleeping!"_

"_Whoops, 'scuse me, then."_

_The sound of scuffles._

"_All right, let's see how you're doing today…Vitals, Mary?"_

"_They look fine."_

"_Is he out of fluids?"_

"_A little, doctor. I'll go fetch some more."_

"_Let me do a quick physical, in the meantime…Your wounds are looking better. I'm surprised one man could do all this to himself, but you're certainly gettin' better. Shouldn't be long before you're completely healed…Wait, what's this?...Wh…what in God's name?..."_

"_Did you say something, doctor?"_

"_Jesus Christ, take a look at this, Mary! His _leg_! He's bleeding all over the place! Get some sutures and bandages! _Hurry!_" Then in a whisper, "What the hell is going on?..."_

* * *

James woke slowly; his forehead was caked in sweat and he felt an incredible grogginess as morphine pumped through his system. The room's light fixtures danced about his vision in blurs and he groaned as nausea gripped his stomach. Maria's detached head lingered in his mind's eye, swinging like a bloody pendulum within the demon's gloved hands; her green eyes stared vacantly through him; her rosy lips parted in a silent scream, even past death.

The man felt himself start to retch and he yanked against his restraints, reflexively trying to cover his mouth, or at the very least roll over so he wouldn't drown in his own vomit. Thankfully, the feeling faded and he lay still in his bed, exhausted and shaken. The sound of blood rapidly pulsing through his ears died down, allowing him to hear a slightly muffled conversation outside his room.

"Doctor…what does this mean?"

"How should I know what this hell this means? It means we're crazy! Nuts! That man was tied up in bed, _tied up_! And then he gets a laceration on his calf running straight to the bone? We must be goddamn _insane_ to be seeing this!"

"Doctor, please calm down, the patients can hear us-"

"Damn the patients! This is…This is just…I don't know what's going on, Mary, but things like this don't happen. If you hadn't seen it, too, I would've put myself into a mental ward! This is _insane_!"

The sound of pacing footsteps.

"…Should we tell someone about this?"

"Are you kidding me? Risk our jobs over this? End up like Smithy? I don't think so. Something weird is going on around here. Only you, me, and Sunderland know about this. Let's keep it that way."

"Doctor, I-"

"Can it, Mary. I'm done talking about this."

James heard Wilkin's heavy footfalls stomp down the hallway, leaving a silent nurse behind him. Mary hesitated for a moment before her heels clicked softly in the opposite direction.

* * *

Arnie Reyers leaned forward in the church's pew, toying with his gun as he watched the Order's two biggest morons interact with each other. Outside of the Other World, Tyler and Bill were identical twins birthed in rural Silent Hill. However, in the world of fog and decay, the brothers appeared drastically different: Bill's face was sunken, as if his head had attempted to implode; Tyler's face protruded from his head, taking on a form similar to an elongated beak. But what was peculiar to Arnie about this difference was that if the men's faces were put together, they would most likely fit perfectly, like puzzle pieces. Or, perhaps, like something more…suggestive.

At the moment, both brothers were near the front of the church, gazing upon an idol of the Christian man, Jesus.

"Hey, Bill, isn't this the guy all those other people are callin' God?"

"Don't look like much of a god to me. I mean, look—he just gotta loincloth and his little skinny ribs is showin'."

"'S a pathetic god to me. Ain't got nuthin' on ours."

"Yuh, all these people pretendin' _he's_ gonna take them to Paradise jus' for believin' in him. Tha's pretty stupid, huh?"

"You betcha." Tyler let out a little snicker. "Hey, hey Bill. Wanna see somethin' funny?" Tyler inched closer to the statue, pulled out Tyler Junior, and proceeded to relieve himself on the idol's legs.

Dumb as stones, but definitely loyal to the cult.

"Hey, idiots," Arnie yelled, beckoning the twins to him. "Go get the log. I want to check something."

A moment later, the brothers approached him with a dusty leather book with newspaper clippings sticking out between the pages. "Look up James Sunderland," Arnie commanded, folding his hands under his chin in anticipation. "Check our recent files, will you? Around six months ago, boys."

The men flipped through the pages, uttering the names they saw as they went. "Eddie Dombrowski…" "Angela Orosco…" "James Sunderland…"

"Stop. Yes, stop right there," Arnie said as he snatched the book. "Here you are…," he muttered to himself as his finger brushed along James' name. _So you _have _been here before…But now you're not…Why is that?_

Bill warily neared the freckled man. "Is something wrong, boss?"

Arnie smiled at him. "Bill, Tyler…Have you ever heard of any of our fodder…escaping?" His green eyes flashed viciously at them.

"No, boss. That's impossible, right?"

"The town's s'posed to eat 'em up, tha's what you said, right?"

Both men began to fidget.

"That's exactly what I said, boys…But do you see this name? _This_ man has. Would any of you happen to know why?"

"Arnie, you should know that those simpletons don't have the slightest clue…however…I do."

The twins let out yelps of shock at the sudden voice and even Arnie seized up in fear at the sound. "Who is intruding upon this sacred ground?" the freckled man bellowed, his eyes scanning his surroundings.

"You know, it's not exactly…impossible to escape Silent Hill…" The voice echoed from the left.

Then from the right, "It takes an incredibly powerful individual to resist the temptations of Xuchilpaba and Lobsel Vith…"

Arnie's hand clutched his chest and he bowed his head at the mention of said deities. "How dare you utter such holy names, you fiend?" he uttered under his breath.

A burst of cackling erupted in the church, loud enough to send the twins to their knees, tears dripping down their cheeks and piss dripping down their legs.

"Fiend? You dare call such a hallowed one as I a _fiend_? Dear Arnie, I believe you owe me an apology…"

The men turned their gazes to the ceiling as a dark shadow scuttled out from the shadows.

"Apologize…to the _right hand of God_!"

Tyler and Bill cried out in despair as the faceless being they used to see in childhood picture books appeared before their very eyes. "All mighty Valtiel!" they shrieked in unison, falling to the ground to grovel. "We beseech you! Grant us your mercy and return us to God's graces!"

Arnie's eyes widened at the sight of Valtiel and he sank to one knee, bowing his head in shame. "Lord Valtiel…I would not have expected to be in your presence…I-"

A firm hand grabbed the blond man's jaw, preventing him from speaking. With a sharp yank, Valtiel lifted Arnie's head and his flesh-covered face tore into a smile. "All will be forgiven…if you present me with a sacrifice…"

Arnie's lips thinned. "Of course. Bill. Step forward," he commanded, without so much as a glance at the victim.

Valtiel released his grip on Arnie and grinned at the sunken-faced man. "Ahh, yes…Come, give your body to the glory of God…," he cooed, his arms spread wide in welcome.

Once the man was within reach, the demon lashed out, sinking its teeth into the wrinkled flesh and clawing meat from bone. Blood splattered onto the church's wooden floors as the monster feasted upon Bill and drained the life from him. Tyler watched the scene in silence a few feet away, his whole body trembling in fear.

When the last of Bill was consumed, the demon tossed the body aside and sighed contentedly. "All shall be forgiven." He grinned sadistically at Arnie.

Suddenly, Tyler released a piercing scream and ran towards his brother's side. "BILL! BILL!" he shrieked over and over. He tripped himself and fell into a pool of his brother's blood, causing him to pause for a moment, think about what was happening, and then scream more in realization of the situation. His hands sifted frantically through his brother's remains and his wails echoed throughout the room.

"Bill…Bill…Why'd you go do that? You ain't s'posed to be dead…God ain't that important! You're my brother! Screw God! You s'posed to be here with me!"

Tyler felt something cold against his scalp and he looked behind him to see Arnie hovering over him, his gun jammed against Tyler's skull. "Shut the hell up," Arnie murmured before firing a round. The beaked man complied permanently.

Arnie stared indifferently at his subordinates' corpses piled on top of each other as he asked Valtiel in a firm, yet quiet voice, "…Why are you here?"

"I have a favor to ask of you, Arnie," the demon replied, wiping blood from its mouth with its forearm. "A very important…proposition. I need you to kill a man."

The freckled man crossed an arm over his chest and bowed his head. "I've killed many people, but is this not a job you can do? Surely Lord Valtiel could easily dispose of a man-"

In a split second, Valtiel's rancid breath breathed inches from Arnie's face. "If this was any ordinary man, don't you think I would have done so already?"

Arnie lowered his eyes. "I…apologize, my lord."

"I believe you are already quite familiar with this man," Valtiel began, tracing his fingers across the log still held within Arnie's hands. "Your recent escapee…James Sunderland, yes?"

Arnie's green eyes narrowed at the very name and he unhesitatingly looked at the demon straight on. "You think _I_ can kill this man? You must think very highly of me."

"You're one of the few intelligent people under God…I cannot trust any other with this matter. Besides…" Valtiel placed a grimy hand on the man's freckled face and his snake-like tongue slithered against the human's cheek. "…I can _taste_ the hatred you harbor towards him…"

Arnie's skin cringed under the demon's touch and he resisted grimacing. He couldn't afford angering God's messenger. "What's in it for me?" he asked abruptly.

Valtiel gave out a little chuckle. "Aside from getting rid of your enemy? My, my, can you not be pleased by that alone?" The demon waited for some kind of response. It got none. "Very well. I know this man will be no easy feat to kill, so I will give you a bit more incentive." The demon's hand shifted to Arnie's shoulder and the creature moved towards the human's ear. In a whisper, it asked, "What do you desire, child of God? Wealth?...Fame?...Power?..."

Arnie's green eyes widened at the last word. Valtiel sensed this and grinned. "I can feel your hunger, dear boy…If it is power you desire, then power is what you shall receive. I can make you the ruler of this realm…a king of Silent Hill…This world will bend to your will…I…can make you a god."

"My Lord…you are too kind…"

"It shall be a fitting reward for such a great service to God. She and I will put you on the highest pedestal, where you can rule with total control...not just over this world, but that other one, as well…But not yet. After you kill James Sunderland, you will be granted all this. In the meantime, however…you're up against an incredible foe. Another deity is protecting this man; your mere human powers cannot harm this being. Therefore, I will grant you a small amount of godly power to assist you in this task…How does that sound?"

"I will accept your generosity with the greatest gratitude," Arnie whispered, visions of greatness flooding his mind.

Valtiel smirked at this and pulled down the collar of the human's shirt to reveal the man's naked chest. "Then so it shall be."

Arnie's eyes rolled into the back of his head, his face turned towards the ceiling, and his mouth opened wide in ecstasy as the demon fed on him. Warm blood trickled down his flesh and his body began to shake. Hot, cold; pain, pleasure; every sensation imaginable surged through his system, powerful enough to seize him entirely in raw rapture. The man lay limp and drained within the creature's arms, yet still the demon fed…

* * *

Mary sat in the entrance hall of the Brookhaven Hospital, sipping on a cup of coffee and munching on a small muffin. She just finished her early morning rounds and she was exhausted. Though not because of the mentally ill patient with the broken leg in room 109 who had a habit of throwing his bedpan at any person who entered his room. It was only when she and Dr. Wilkins visited James Sunderland that she began to feel shaken. After bandaging his leg and cleaning up all the blood, she went to the bathroom and sat in the corner of a stall for what felt like hours, crying her eyes out. It wasn't James' leg that shocked her so much; it was more of the realization that everything he had said to her was real. Truly, truly _real_. Smithy was never coming back. He had been killed in that other world, the world that had severely injured James not once, but twice. A dangerous world, that was most certainly reaching out to this world more and more as each day passed. But little did she know that the danger of the other world would reach her doorstep _much_ sooner than she thought.

A loud creak was heard as someone entered the hospital and the nurse peeked over her coffee mug to get a better look. A man entered with his hands shoved down the pockets of his jacket and his eyes scanning his surroundings. Suddenly, his green eyes flitted to Mary and he smiled in relief. "Excuse me, miss?" he asked pleasantly as he approached her. "This is Brookhaven Hospital, correct?"

Mary set the coffee cup down on her lap and returned his smile. "Yes, it is."

"Oh, thank God," the man said with a chuckle. He held his hand out towards Mary. "My name's Cecil Nelson."

"Mary Smith," she replied, shaking his hand lightly as she got a closer look at his face. _Freckles…How peculiar._

"Now what's a pretty woman such as yourself doing in a hospital? Are you ill?"

Mary giggled at that. "No, I work here; I'm a nurse."

The man's eyes widened, as did his smile. "A nurse! In that case, you may be able to help me out. I'm looking for someone…Do you know James Sunderland?"


End file.
